


First Kiss

by Amethyst_Hunter



Series: 30 Kisses: The Serpent and the Jackal [1]
Category: GetBackers
Genre: Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Angst, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light Bondage, M/M, Multi, Psychic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-16 01:43:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 33,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1327153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amethyst_Hunter/pseuds/Amethyst_Hunter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bitten by each other's fangs, Ban and Akabane embark upon the course of an unusual relationship that changes everyone's lives forever, as the Get Backers & company begin a battle to restore a fated love amidst the treachery of Babylon City's Brain Trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How it all began...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series (currently in progress) of fanfictions done for the LiveJournal community 30_kisses, each story centered around a particular prompt. The stories can also be found on fanfiction.net (same name) at the 30_kisses comm, my own LJ (same name - amethyst_hunter) and my Dreamwidth journal (also same name).
> 
> I enjoy and appreciate any/all feedback given, even if I don't always get around right away to replying (though I will certainly try). :)
> 
> The fics go mostly by anime canon, although some manga canon is used as well. There are also OCs involved as I skew this universe a bit to fit the form that I wanted. In other words, the GBers themselves don't belong to me, but folks like Akabane's mother are all my invention. And she won't hesitate to let you know it. >;) (Like son, like mother...!)
> 
> Happy Fun Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of said GB characters. No profit is made nor is any infringement intended. Much like Akabane, I fic only for fun. Except I don't kill anybody. Well, only in print, that is. :)

Title: First Kiss  
Author/Artist: Amethyst Hunter  
Pairing: Ban/Akabane  
Fandom: Get Backers  
Theme: #30 – “kiss”  
Rating: R (m/m content, swearing, naughtybits)  
Warnings/Spoilers: Takes place during the scene of their big fight near the end of the anime.  
Notes: A slight AU twist as Ban does something that’s a little unexpected.  
Disclaimer: Don’t own ‘em.  
Summary: How Ban and Akabane got together in the first place.

 

–

Everyone has to start somewhere. Even star-crossed lovers.

Transporters send; retrievers fetch. This is the natural law, and the endless cycle that governs existence. Those who interfere with this divine design risk being delivered unto a realm where not even retrievers may tread, nor recover what has traveled beyond the veil.

Paradoxically, there exists one agent who has done just this. It is his tale, and that of his beloved, which we come to in our search for universal truth. It begins as thus:

_Once upon a time there was a mighty Serpent King, and a fearsome Jackal among beasts, who clashed in the crossroads of life and death. Though the battle was as fierce as any ever waged for destiny, these two creatures quickly realized that they shared something special, something beyond any power either of them had ever known or understood. They chose their path together, and they soon discovered just how interesting their lives could get..._

\--

They meet as all great rivals must, on the ultimate playing field - the heart of Mugenjou. His first mistake. He should have known better, should have remembered what the other man told him about this place and his first encounter with the legendary Raitei. But a lust for blood and the desire to match wits with the enigma that has fascinated him since they first met overrides his common sense, and the resulting folly is his to bear alone.

In a way it’s an odd relief. To fall to such an opponent is a rare honor indeed, and this time when the killing blow arrives Kuroudo Akabane knows it will not falter, nor will it linger. It will be a swift and sure strike of the fang, and then – it will be over.

He admits to some disappointment though. Is this all there is to his powers? He’s worked so hard and it seems he could still have achieved a higher level of skill...he had rather hoped that it would last longer than it did, that Midou-kun would indulge his senses in a truly glorious fight but alas, it seems his priorities have changed. Midou-kun tells him as much, explaining the difference between fighting just to fight and fighting for other purposes. Dear, sweet Ginji-kun; the effects he has on people – Akabane included – are the strangest things…

He’ll miss sparring with both Get Backers, of course. It’s been so long since he met anyone who was so interesting to play with, people who could hold his attention and fascinate him on more than one level. He wonders what they will do now for entertainment without him around to keep them on their toes, whether he was acting in the capacity of ally or opponent. Both had their enjoyable benefits.

But none of this matters now. Akabane hears the sounds of a cigarette being lit and approaching boots. Midou-kun is coming to finish what they started. He waits patiently, head bowed, kneeling in ruin on the floor. Pain ripples throughout his body with every breath he takes. Even if he wanted to continue the battle he could not, for Midou-kun’s Snakebite has devastated him. The sword has been smashed and with it a great deal of his lifeblood splattered across the floor like thrown paint; the remainder receded into his body when the blow was struck. He is too weak to offer a decent challenge.

Akabane is still in shock from the ordeal. The sword wasn’t just broken; it was _shattered_ into pieces like so much glass. No one has ever done this to him before...at least, none that he can remember. When wielded by one who manipulates it as easily as the wind carries and shapes the clouds, the Bloody Sword is a virtually unbeatable weapon. It cannot be taken from him or turned against him and its blade is always true. Were he to survive this it would take weeks to replenish it.

But perhaps this is as it should be: the vanquished foe awaiting dispatch by the victor. If indeed Midou-kun is right about mentality determining fate, then it is hardly a surprise things have turned out this way – Midou-kun has enough strength of will for the both of them.

The boots stop in front of him and Midou-kun speaks after exhaling a stream of smoke. He sounds almost affable. “Well. I think I’ll quit dealing with you now.”

Akabane is silent, not looking at him. He is anticipating, welcoming even, the deathblow that will end Dr. Jackal’s hunt once and for all.

Instead, the boots walk away from him.

Bewildered as to why he seems to have been spared, Akabane looks around and realizes Midou-kun is leaving the chamber. Why? “If you don’t finish it now...I’ll follow you wherever you go, until it is done,” he says without malice, merely stating a fact. It’s not as quite an empty threat as it sounds – he will be _compelled_ by the manic bloodlust to chase wherever his prey leads.

Even so Midou-kun doesn’t sound terribly concerned. “Eh, I’ll just defeat you again if that time comes,” he says with a shrug and wave of his hand.

Akabane can’t believe it. He’s never met an opponent as complex and as puzzling as this one. Wearily he sags towards the floor, a soft laugh escaping him. “You truly are an interesting person, Midou-kun. I hope we meet again soon, in that case.”

“Feh. I’d rather not,” comes the annoyed reply.

Akabane closes his eyes, trying to gather what strength he has left in order to leave this place, now that there is nothing more to be done. It dawns on him suddenly that the sound of footsteps is growing louder, not fainter. Has Midou-kun changed his mind, then?

He opens his eyes and the boots appear in his line of vision. A hand reaches down and gently tilts his chin up so he’s looking directly into Midou-kun’s face. Strong fingers are resting above his pulse, and even though his outer composure is carefully under control Akabane knows the other must surely feel the sudden skip in beats. What is this? Why does Midou-kun make him feel this way? So many strange and unfamiliar sensations suddenly swirling around inside...it’s disturbing and yet...exciting...

But he doesn’t have time to ponder this now. Midou-kun is kneeling down to be at eye level with him, holding his smoldering cigarette off to one side in his free hand. He’s regarding Akabane with a thoughtful expression. “I think I have a better idea.” And then he smiles, a calculating curl of lips that’s wholly snakelike as befits his majesty. It's not cold, nor is it mocking. It's...enticing...

Akabane’s curiosity gets the better of him and he starts to ask what that idea is, but before he can form any words that’s when it happens:

Midou-kun leans forward and kisses him on the lips.

Of all the things he was expecting from this man – and his mind had already begun running through the possibilities ranging from most to least violent – a kiss is the last thing Akabane would ever have thought to be on the receiving end of. Midou-kun’s mouth is hot and moist and sure and stings of tobacco menthol, and as his lips tease and shape Akabane’s own mouth he finds himself inexplicably responding to it, eyes slipping shut as he’s melting against the snake dancer like softened steel in molten heat.

Oh

my.

It’s _never_ been like this.

The fingers on his skin spread out and wander along his neck till the entire palm is cupping his jaw. For someone so cold-blooded this serpent’s touch is like living ember; it brands his flesh with a fire all its own. Unconsciously his lips part, an invitation Midou-kun is prompt in taking. Another tongue glides into his mouth, its slick caress spreading tantalizing tingles along the length of his own. He’s vaguely aware of moaning then, softly, into Midou-kun’s mouth and he feels the other’s amused smile against his lips. Before he can reciprocate the tongue is retreating and so is the rest of the kiss, though Midou-kun draws it out to the bittersweet end as he sucks firmly on Akabane’s lower lip while he’s pulling away.

There’s the muted sound of wet suction as their mouths separate, and the spell is broken.

Akabane opens his eyes and finds Midou-kun staring at him, their faces less than a foot apart. He blinks, trying to reorient himself with reality as he watches the owner of those cool blue eyes rise to his feet. He catches the barest glimpse of his own reflection in them, and tries to process what he’s just seen: amethyst darkened to a rich shade of violet, the pupils so large as to make his eyes seem almost entirely black in their intensity. He’s feeling lightheaded and breathless, and not because of their fight alone.

_What_ just happened here?

“Bet you feel alive now, don’tcha?”

Midou-kun lifts the cigarette he’s been holding in his other hand and tokes deeply on it, the smoke floating upwards in lazy satisfaction. He smiles – smirks, actually – at Akabane, and nods silently in his direction as he starts to walk away, for good this time. His form is swiftly swallowed by the inky darkness of the chamber’s outlying arches.

Akabane stays on his knees for a few moments, caught between a dreamlike trance and the nagging tug of reality. This is without a doubt the most peculiar fight he’s ever had. He doesn’t know what to make of it. His motions are automatic as he slowly rises to his feet, smoothing down the front of his tattered coat, and stoops to retrieve his lost hat. These small attempts at restoring his dignity are somewhat soothing in their familiar repetitiveness.

A voice, supple and just shy of outright taunting, intrudes on his thoughts. “Done already? Funny, I thought you’d last longer than that. Gone all the way, even...”

Akabane pauses to adjust his hat over his face, grateful for its presence so that Kagami can’t see the sudden flash of rabid hatred reflected in his eyes as it sears through him. How long has the Observer been lurking there, taking in the action? Did he witness everything that took place between Midou-kun and himself?

Probably.

Akabane tamps down on the vitriol that strongly suggests introducing Kagami to the miracles of plastic surgery. Calmly he replies, “Perhaps it was not the right time for us to have our duel. I’m sure there will come a day when we shall fight to the very end.” He’s pleased with himself for sounding so composed, in light of what’s happened today. Maybe the mirror-master doesn’t have a clue after all – though he wouldn’t take any bets on that.

Kagami doesn’t say anything as Akabane walks past him. He imagines his scalpels slicing that smug perfection into bloody ribbons and immediately feels much better. There will come a day, too, when he is able to fight to the end with this one, and strangely...a part of Akabane suspects that he will find himself looking forward to that battle far more than the one he’d suggested with Midou-kun.

\-- 

How slowly the days drag on when one is recuperating from the exertions of battle. And how much more slowly do they pass when one also has much on one’s mind but neither time nor resources to do anything about that…until finally the ennui of inaction becomes too much to bear and prompts him to an unusual break in routine.

Akabane is waiting at his downtown apartment when the call comes through. The information he has requested has become available, and he listens as his informant tells him where to find the transport item. He thanks the person and ends the call.

It’s time to go and have some fun again.

He concentrates on little preparations: pocketing his phone, placing his hat on his head just so, flexing his fingers experimentally and taking comfort from the repeated sliding of blades through flesh. These are all intended as distractions, to keep him from dwelling on the one thing that’s haunted his thoughts for weeks and been responsible for many sleepless nights...as well as more than a few impromptu cold showers. Due to the nature of his work Akabane is used to an erratic schedule, but when he _wants_ to sleep and can’t it’s quite a nuisance.

Honestly, it wasn’t _that_ good of a kiss. Really.

Oh, really?

Yes, really.

He admires his reflection in the mirror, noting with crisp satisfaction the tidiness of his appearance. Very professional, as befits the best of the transport business. Midou-kun must have been fooling himself if he thought to appeal to Akabane's passions. He has but one and it is the only thing he has ever known, the only thing he needs and wants. Regardless of how appealing he finds the Get Backers.

He is thinking of the dance of blades as he leaves his place. Not of the dance of tongues curling sensuously around each other. He has only room for fantasies of red and silver, not those of sapphire blue as it claims violet in its tempestuous coils, over and over.

The alley he was directed to is not far from here, so it’s only a quick walk and then several minutes of patient waiting for his quarry. Just as his tip said, here comes the B in Get Backers strolling down the middle of the street as if he owns it. Typical of Midou-kun; he’s got enough swagger for his entire gang and then some. It’s one of the more peculiar qualities that’s at odds with the other facets of his personality, which of course is why he’s so interesting.

Akabane tilts his hat and steps out from the doorway where he’s been lingering, not quite blocking Midou-kun’s path. “Good afternoon, Midou-kun.”

Midou-kun stops, a lit cigarette dangling partway in his lips and thumbs jammed casually into his pants pockets. He looks at ease but it’s purely a deception – in less time than it takes to blink once this man can move like a bullet and snap an opponent’s neck, if he so chooses. “Jackal,” he says, his tone smooth and relaxed. He’s been expecting this, it seems. However, he doesn’t appear poised for battle the way he usually is when they encounter one another. He’s used to Midou-kun’s bristling. Instead he seems almost mellow about the fact that Akabane is preparing to face off with him for another conflict. Strange, that.

Ah, things have been strange ever since they set foot inside Mugenjou that time...but now is not for dwelling on remembrances. Particularly ones as bizarre as that.

Akabane comes a little bit closer, one hand in the pocket of his coat, the other at his side, fingers flexing slightly in anticipation of what’s to come. “It’s so nice to see you again, and so soon after our last meeting,” he says calmly. “I do hope you have time to spare.”

“Let me guess.” Midou-kun flicks his cigarette ash carelessly at the briefcase he’s carrying. “You were hired to transport this little beauty that I just picked up not ten minutes ago.”

Akabane smirks. “You might say that. You might also say that it was _I_ who hired _you._ You see, I arranged for that job to be offered to you, meager though it is for your talents.”

Midou-kun raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t look put out by the fact that he’s been duped. “I thought that deal sounded a little too pat when Hevn told me about it. But points to you anyway for originality.” He takes a deep drag on his cigarette and tosses it to the ground, mashing it in with the tip of his boot. “I have to ask though, since you’re presumably coming to take it back...wouldn’t that make you a retriever instead of a transporter? Can't teach old dogs new tricks, you know. ‘Cause I’m telling you, the only person who sucks worse than you do at recovery is the monkey trainer, and somehow I just can't see the two of you tolerating each other's fleas.”

It takes Akabane a few seconds to get the joke. Ha, ha. Goodness, but the other man’s sarcastic today. What’s inspired that?

“Let us not waste time with trivialities,” Akabane sighs, his coiled tension making his tolerance just a tad shorter than it normally is. “We have jobs to do, correct?”

Midou-kun actually smiles, though there’s a hint of mockery in it. “Yeah.” And then he surprises Akabane further by setting down the briefcase and kicking it over to him. “All yours. Have fun.”

He starts walking again, brushing past Akabane without so much as a parting glance.

Akabane stares at the case, thoroughly puzzled by his reaction. “Midou-kun? Where are you going?”

“Home.” Granted, to Midou Ban, 'home' actually means his car, or whichever place will permit him squatting rights, but this is a minor distinction to the man in question. “Cold beer and hot pizza are calling my name, and I'm not waiting for leftovers.” He pauses without glancing back. “It was a crap job anyway. I don't work for peanuts, no matter what Ginji says.”

“That’s rather unprofessional, isn’t it? To walk away from a job, just like that?”

Midou-kun stops and turns around, shrugging. “I guess. But how professional is it when a client tries to feel up your mediator – who is, I might remind you, the person who brings you the good jobs as well as the bad ones?” He makes a noise of distaste. “Guy even tried to hit on Natsumi, damn pervert.”

“I am sorry to hear of it,” Akabane replies perfunctorily. He makes a mental note to deal with this man in a more appropriate manner later. Had he known of the client’s boorish traits beforehand he never would have used him in this caper. How rude, and as Midou-kun would agree...extremely unprofessional. “It would seem then that you are right. I do hope you rectified the situation.”

“Oh I did.” Midou-kun flashes him a wicked grin then, and it makes something inside Akabane skip a beat. Midou-kun is a very attractive man and he knows it. “I gave that toad a dream he won’t forget anytime soon.”

“You used the Jagan.” He wonders how many times today Midou-kun has done so, and if there is any left for him. “And before...you used your Snakebite to fight me. What else might you use against me?”

Midou-kun snorts. “You’re on a job,” he says, pointing towards the briefcase still on the ground. “You don’t have time to play.”

“Not necessarily. A few minutes here and there are ample compensation for my trouble.” Akabane starts to slink towards him, one visible purple eye alight with a familiar hunter’s shine.

Midou-kun frowns slightly. “I thought we settled this shit at Mugenjou.”

“That was Mugenjou. This is here,” Akabane says, his smile razor-sharp and his knives twice as so as they shoot from between his fingers in the next instant. He swings at Midou-kun.

The blow doesn’t touch its intended target. He wasn’t expecting it to. But he also isn’t expecting Midou-kun to avoid fighting _at all,_ and he’s bewildered when the other simply dodges the swipe of knives, even when they keep coming in rapid succession. Akabane watches his movements, tries to track Midou-kun’s responses, but it’s as much a game of wits as it is a fight for blood. Midou-kun deftly avoids another cut as the scalpels slash past him, and he shoots a bemused look up at Akabane just before whirling by him. “You’re a little slow today, Jackal. Something on your mind?”

He isn’t avoiding the attacks out of fear, or a desire for self-preservation so that he can bide his time for a counterattack. He’s avoiding the fight because...he’s bored? But the expression on his face, the droll amusement in his deep blue eyes, those say it all. For once Midou-kun isn’t interested in their dance, and he doesn’t even have the good grace to keep it from showing.

Akabane feels rather insulted, and peeved by this realization. If anyone ought to feel boredom here it should be him. Midou-kun won’t play. It’s almost as if he’s ignoring him, and that casual dismissal stings more than he ever thought it would. He falls back for a moment, trying to think of a way he can make him interested. His first instinct is to use the sword, but one good smack from Midou-kun could ruin it again, and send him retreating to his apartment to recover for the better part of the week. Akabane has no desire for another case of cabin fever, especially after having just come off of one recently. He’s restless enough as it is.

There is the Hurricane, or the Stream, or even the Rain. But Midou-kun is a master at avoiding all of these.

“Hey. Are you having a dream too, or what?” Suddenly blue eyes are right in his face – literally, _right in his face,_ as Midou-kun grabs him by the waist and kisses him soundly on the mouth – then in another blink they’re gone and so is Midou-kun’s chuckle as he darts backward in time to avoid the reflexive defense of Akabane’s knives from having an opponent invade his personal space so intimately.

He’s stunned for a moment, unable to believe that Midou-kun just did what he did. The brief, rough pressure of the Jagan master’s lips on his own still burns, and he unconsciously raises a hand partway to his mouth before he gets hold of his senses to plan an attack. He lunges at the other with a fistful of scalpels, slicing upwards in an attempt to gut him from below.

Midou-kun is obviously in top form today. He leaps away from the attack with little effort, and doesn’t return the favor with his usual fist-speak. What’s going on here? He’s never had an opponent that didn’t try to defend himself before, even if it’s normally a futile cause to evade the lethal J-cuts.

Akabane keeps charging, and every time Midou-kun rolls, dodges, flips and hurtles out of killing range, all without ever throwing a single attack of his own. It’s wearing thin on Akabane’s nerves, this adamant refusal to accept the gauntlet that’s so obviously being offered. “Are you afraid that Ginji-kun will have no one to look after him if you dare to engage me?” he taunts Midou-kun, the edge in his voice creeping out only just, a fact he blames on the mounting frustration his opponent is giving him.

“Are you so hard up for entertainment that you’d rather have the same old fight again instead of trying something new for a change?” Midou-kun shoots back. He isn’t even winded from whirling around to avoid the next blow. “You probably could’ve had the both of us back in Mugenjou, but you let that stupid bar host lure you away from the group. Your loss, eh?”

Akabane pauses before flinging a barrage of knives at him. They all miss, and Midou-kun reappears a few paces closer than he was before. “Oh?”

“You got your ass handed to you on a platter by me _and_ you missed out on when I cold-cocked that cagey mirror freak. You’d have loved it.”

Oh yes, he _would_ have loved that. Despite all polite assurances to the contrary Akabane does _not_ like Kyouji Kagami – there’s something about that man that’s infinitely grating and unsettling. A seething churn of envy and anger rushes through him, but he quickly pushes it down before it can bubble to the surface. That would be unprofessional and not at all helpful in this battle. He settles for exhaling a low stream of breath that carries only mild exasperation. “A pity, then.”

“Yeah, isn’t it? He’s probably still trying to glue his dumb earring back together.” Midou-kun’s image blurs and solidifies as he moves, and the next thing Akabane knows he’s being kissed again. Startled, he lifts a knife-laden hand to stab back but by the time he realizes what’s going on Midou-kun’s already darted to safety. Akabane is left staring, trying to make some sense of this fight that isn’t a fight. This isn’t how things are supposed to go.

Midou-kun’s kisses taste like tobacco and mint. And recent pizza sauce, and something else he can’t quite identify but is close to intoxicating; perhaps it’s a natural essence. The combination is intriguing and more than a little exciting in a way that has nothing to do with battle-lust. It brings to Akabane's mind the memory of that first arousing kiss in Mugenjou...

His irritation growing at that thought, he fills both hands with scalpels and flies after Midou-kun, firmly steering his focus towards the center of the other’s chest. He swings with one hand, hoping to provide a distraction in order to shove his other straight through flesh where it’s least expected. But Midou-kun ducks out of the way of the false blow while moving in on the hand that would have struck the fatal one. He clamps a hand down on a pale wrist and uses Akabane’s momentum to whirl him around and bring him in face to face for another bruising kiss, knocking off his hat in the process.

It flutters to the ground in the space of several heartbeats. Which is exactly how long it takes for the kiss – it’s hot and wet and darkly teasing - to last, and Midou-kun to run laughing from him again before he can retaliate. He _dares...?_

“You know, you don’t look half-bad without that umbrella over your head,” Midou-kun says, blue eyes sparkling merrily though his expression is cool and controlled. “Let the light in a little more, Jackal. You look sexier that way.”

He knocked it off on purpose. The loss of his hat fills Akabane with inexplicable fury. How _dare_ his prey not cooperate according to the rules? He doesn’t mind occasionally playing the hunted himself, but only with the understanding that the tables can turn in an instant, and really, this is too much. It’s as if Midou-kun knows something he doesn’t and is taking great satisfaction in exposing what ought to remain hidden, and that grates on him like a raw blister. _Careful,_ warns an inner voice, his cooler reasoning that has saved his neck in many a fight, but this is fast being drowned out by the roar of blood in his ears that demands the game be played properly.

Caution be damned, it’s time to get serious. He speaks the words and the crimson blade rushes to his hand, vibrant in its terrible glory. The first time Midou-kun saw this sword he was wearing a grim expression, having already guessed that its power surpassed that of the ordinary scalpels. Now he just looks at it with a faintly amused smile as if to say _is that the best you can do?_

He’ll show him the best. Akabane speeds up and whips the blade at Midou-kun’s midsection, gripping the hilt with both hands and putting his full weight behind the strike. It’s a killing blow if ever there was one.

Midou-kun disinterestedly watches the red death streaking towards him, and then...he moves.

Powerful hands snatch Akabane out of the air as though he’s a leaf fluttering from a tree limb. They bite down on his wrists so hard he’s forced to drop his grip on the sword, and without his concentration it instantly dissolves and recedes. The hands twist his arms behind his back, pinning his hands by his sides so he can’t lash out, and Midou-kun steps in and mashes his lips against his once more before the release and retreat.

“Tag. You’re it. Again.”

Hissing, Akabane attacks him with claws fully extended. This isn’t fun anymore. _Why won’t you fight me?!_ He slashes at Midou-kun in a series of rapid patterns, trying to score a hit, any hit, and spur the other into a more appropriate battle mentality. But without his usual cold focus and blood-sense to guide him, he’s a dervish of instability and Midou-kun has no problem taking advantage of this.

Slash; knives down, shaped with longer blades than a regular scalpel. They cut through air instead of flesh. He tries again. Caught, twisted, turned away, and - kiss.

A strike from behind fares no better. The scalpels shimmer in the air as they’re sent in a furious Stream at Midou-kun, who disappears and reappears at intervals all along the alley with nary a scratch to show for it. He pops up behind Akabane, who senses his presence and spins around to react, but Midou-kun is too fast and darts to his front; Akabane pivots on his feet in response but there’s nothing there and he’s whirling back again to confront his nemesis who still isn’t there, then he feels a tap on his shoulder and swipes in that direction only to find himself being yanked in another circle and pinned between a wall and a smirking Midou-kun.

Firm hands are bracketing his waist in a rather intimate manner and he’s not sure whether to feel shocked or affronted when a pleasant jolt spikes through his body at the presumptuous contact. Because the momentum carried him right into the wall on an upwards blow his scalpels are stuck point-first into the brick, trapping his hands as a result. Midou-kun’s body is pressing uncomfortably close behind him, close enough that he can feel the heat of skin and the tickle of breath, the contour of muscle fitting against the length of his own body. Suppressing a shiver Akabane snaps his head around to scold Midou-kun and this is a mistake: fingers seize his lower jaw in a rough hold and keep him in place as those wicked lips descend on his.

They’re brazen enough to even force entry into his mouth this time, when he feels the slick caress of a tongue running across the surface of his own. He reflexively bites down but the only things his teeth hit are each other – the intruder snaked out just in time.

Akabane rips his hands free from the wall – he’s been released now – and advances on Midou-kun, a low, wet snarl curdling in his throat. He doesn’t like fighting this way. Emotions are a liability in a battle but Midou-kun has somehow managed to spark something inside him that he never used to pay much attention to, and it’s infuriating because it’s uncontrollable and unpredictable and doesn’t reek so much of the bloodlust he’s grown used to as it does a specter of something he once knew, something so tormenting it has the power to drive him absolutely crazy if he allows it to sit on his mind too long –

“So, Jackal. Do you feel alive yet?”

The words are almost like ice water dousing a blaze. It’s similar to what Midou-kun said to him that time, right after they’d shared that surprise kiss...

Midou-kun smiles knowingly at him. “You ought to see yourself. You look more human now than I’ve ever seen you. Kind of a nice change. If we’d known that this was all it took to trip you up, I’d have planted one on you months ago.”

Akabane has a sneaking suspicion of how disheveled he must look like, of course, and the mental image does nothing to improve his confused and upset mood. It’s always been very important to him to maintain that image of respectability, professionalism. It gives him a control that’s soothing in its rigidity.

Eerily, Midou-kun seems to be reading his mind. “Boy, you sure are one tightly-wound spring. I used to think there was no figuring you out, but now...I think I have a handle on how that devious mind of yours works. Killing aside, you're pretty fucked up, aren't you? It's okay. We're all fucked to some degree or another. But I can live with my failings. You can't.”

This spikes an unnamed pain in his insides, and to dispel it Akabane finds his voice. Struggling to keep it to an even politeness, he says, “You’re being quite rude today, Midou-kun. And you’re not making any sense. I think you’re _afraid_ to fight me, now that we aren’t in the confines of Mugenjou where your power is assured.” He’s rather pleased with the haughtiness he’s managed to inject into that last sentence.

But Midou-kun won’t even accept his verbal attacks as an entreaty to fight. A sapphire blue gaze abruptly stabs a violet one like a knife to the heart and Akabane actually finds himself taking a small step backwards, so shocking is that look. It’s not one of wrath, or of pitilessness, or even of mild irritation. Its power lies in its forthrightness.

For half a second he thinks that Midou-kun’s hypnotic powers extend beyond those of dreamweaving; he is rumored to hail from a long line of infamous witches after all. But surely there are limits to what such sorcerers can do...?

“I don’t think so. I think _you’re_ the one who’s afraid. But you can’t admit that, even to yourself...can you?”

Midou-kun assumes a relaxed but alert posture, and starts to walk towards him.

“Besides the fact that we’re two of the few people who can match your fighting prowess, that’s what draws you to me and Ginji, isn’t it? You like it when somebody pushes your physical boundaries, but you don’t seem to deal too well with having your mental ones poked at. You need others to do it for you.”

“Psychoanalyzing, Midou-kun?” Akabane fairly sneers at him. “Really. I expected better of you – “

Midou-kun reaches into the folds of his shirt and withdraws a small, thick manila envelope, which he flings at Akabane. It lands with a muffled thump near his feet. “When you’re done with your job there, I want you to bring what’s in that envelope to me.” He names a hotel – startlingly, it’s one of the more expensive places in town; how can he afford that if he’s perpetually short on money? “Top suite. I’m hiring you to do a little transporting for me. The cash in there’s your retention fee.” That snakelike smile returns, mesmerizing him with its intensity. “That enough of a challenge for you, Jackal?”

Well. _That_ Akabane wasn’t expecting. But it does add spice to the situation. His mind seizes on the comforting familiarity of duty and he bends down, tentatively picks up the envelope. By the time he can think to open it and peek inside Midou-kun is walking away again, seemingly unconcerned with the possibility that Akabane might decide to attack him from behind – were it not for the unrelenting demands of work.

He looks at the suitcase left for him, then at the bundle of money inside the envelope. Then at Midou-kun’s retreating figure. Maybe the Jagan master does know Jackal a little more than he realizes... Curious and unsettling, that.

There’s a note tucked in with the money. Akabane pulls it out and unfolds it; a small silver key slips into his gloved palm. He studies its shine for a second and reads what’s written:

_You want to test the limits? Bring this to me at the stated place and time. I’ll be waiting._

_P.S.: I haven’t been able to forget about that kiss either._

How cheeky of him. Even if it is interesting to know that the sentiment is mutual. Or is this just another serpentine lure?

Akabane stares at it some more, torn between duty and the desire to chase after Midou-kun and demand an explanation if not a fight.

He sighs as the tension drains from him in a slow ebbing. Is there really any other choice at this point? It would hardly be professional if he did not fulfill his prior contract before taking on another assignment so soon...

Akabane packs away the envelope’s contents and tucks the package into an inside pocket of his coat, which he smooths down as he tidies his rumpled clothing. He retrieves his hat and the original briefcase and, after a momentary glance down the alley where the other man went, sets off at a steady pace for the dropoff point.

Midou-kun had _better_ make this rendezvous worth his interest.

\-- 

It’s not too late by the time he’s completed the job and followed the address to its location. The waning daylight lends its remaining flickers of sunset through the windows of the building to Akabane’s shadow as he climbs the steps – elevators bore him, with their tedious waits, and the exercise is good – and trails the halls looking for the room he’s been directed to. He assumes the key he’s holding in his hand now is one to such a door. Behind one of these barriers Midou-kun must be awaiting his arrival. To do what? It can’t possibly be for a fight, not in an establishment as nice as this. Surely Midou-kun would have better manners than that. How disappointing.

_Test the limits,_ the note had suggested. Whose limits will be tested is a question that has yet to be answered before the night is out. For once in his life Akabane isn’t sure if the answer is one that he wants to see examined and this thought displeases him greatly. With no more than a simple kiss for a weapon Midou-kun has managed to render his previously assured demeanor to a shadow of itself. This is not the Jackal that Akabane knows; this new man is uneasy, unsure, maybe even a little worried.

No. No fear. To be afraid is to invite the unimaginable. Everyone knows what happens to those who are weak. Akabane is not conquered so easily. Not unless he can share the wealth, so to speak, with the one who is strong enough to find his – or her - fated match in combat with Doctor Jackal.

He finds the room at the end of the hall. A private suite, one of the best the hotel has to offer. Akabane would ask out of sheer curiosity how it is that Midou-kun can afford to stay in such a place when he can’t seem to purchase even a simple cup of coffee at his favorite cafe, but such behavior is impolite and beneath him. Anyway, it’s not the money that fascinates him enough to take the job; money is just a means to an end. If Midou-kun had only known what his usual going rate is odds are he’d have had a fit at having to use a much larger envelope to enclose the retainer fee in.

Akabane hesitates in front of the room, wondering if he ought to knock first before trying the key. He taps lightly on the door and waits for a response. Nothing happens, so he attempts to insert the key into the lock.

It won’t fit. Then, it is not a key for this door, but meant for something else. He slips it back into his coat pocket and tries knocking on the door again, a series of gentle raps.

A muffled voice on the other side issues a slightly brusque invitation. “You gonna come in, Jackal, or just stand around outside all night waiting for an escort?”

Akabane adjusts his hat and enters the room. “Am I to assume then that you are the kind of person who doesn’t usually wait to be properly invited into another’s dwelling?”

Midou-kun is stubbing out a lit cigarette in an ashtray. “I’m the kind of person who doesn’t believe in fooling around with bullshit. You knew I was expecting you and nobody else, you could’ve just walked right in.”

“To have done so without permission would have been unduly forward of me,” Akabane insists quietly.

There’s a snort of laughter from the other man as he comes closer. “You won’t go into somebody’s place even when they’ve just told you it’s an open door policy, but you have no problems being forward when you try to cut them a new orifice without _their_ permission. Nice, Jackal.”

“That’s different. That involves business. I merely prefer to mix that with pleasure whenever possible.”

Midou-kun gives him a look. “Same principles still apply.”

Akabane sighs. “I did not come here to argue semantics with you, Midou-kun.” He withdraws the envelope he was given, sans cash, and places it on the side counter, along with the key that doesn’t fit the door. “As you can see, I have delivered what you requested. Though it is a peculiar mission, I must say.”

Midou-kun fingers the key for a moment before scooping it up and shoving it into the pocket of his jeans. “Prompt and efficient. Guess Himiko was right about you being top-notch.”

Akabane’s eyes narrow slightly at those words, the thought that this has all been some sort of practical joke at his expense having suddenly occurred to him. Surely he has demonstrated his proficiencies well enough in past encounters. “I might say the same of you. How very cunning, to switch the contents of that briefcase before meeting with me. My client was most displeased.”

The other man smirks. “Had to say something to get you hooked. He bitch you out for it, or did you just carve a J in him and call it a day?”

Akabane’s tone cools several degrees. “I only learned of your duplicity when I received a rather nasty message in my voicemail. But I will certainly keep your suggestion in mind should our paths ever cross again. I do not appreciate such rudeness.”

Even more annoying: Midou-kun doesn’t appear poised for a fight, which is what he had been hoping for as he’d made the trek to the hotel. Even a light scuffle would have made up for the pathetic humiliation of earlier today. He still can’t believe Midou-kun’s audacity. Youth as a viable excuse only extends so far.

“If you’d looked in the case beforehand, you’d have known and you could have saved yourself an extra trip. Don’t you guys ever check out what kind of shit it is you’re supposed to haul around?”

Akabane shakes his head. “The rule is never to ask about anything other than the transport itinerary. It’s none of my business what someone else wants. All that matters to me is receiving my due compensation for delivering it to them.”

Midou-kun levels a long look at him. “So it’s safe to say that you’ll move anything no matter what the danger involved as long as you get a chance to play with your sharp shiny toys.”

Akabane doesn’t respond to this, merely regards that blue stare with the chill of his own amethyst one. He can’t quite peg what it is that’s giving Midou-kun this unusual sensation he’s picking up on, but it’s different than from how he normally perceives the retriever. Midou-kun has always been supremely confident in his own abilities, but the glitter in his eyes tonight is somehow more... _knowing._ Akabane has the distinct impression that even though they’re supposed to be on neutral grounds Midou-kun enjoys all the advantages here, and that engaging in a battle, even a nonphysical one, would be a grave mistake. Midou-kun knows how to draw blood precisely even when his weapons manifest as words instead of fists or blades.

Yet he finds himself inexplicably drawn to that flirtation with mortal danger, the proverbial moth to the candlelight. Blame the ever-present cravings, which have begun to slither out from underneath their trappings of civility and are starting to make their displeasure at being denied known. His nerves are restless in anticipation of a potential storm. One way or another, there will be blood drawn tonight. There _has_ to be. He can’t imagine it being any other way.

Midou-kun seems to sense what he’s thinking as he watches Akabane adjust the slant of his hat. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, to find oneself under such thorough scrutiny from that laser-like sapphire gaze, and at such close range. Like being stripped bare beneath a microscope and made to expose all of one’s secrets. He wonders which ones of his Midou-kun had unearthed and an uncharacteristic anxiety surfaces in his breast before he can push it away. Those earlier implications didn’t bode well.

 

\--


	2. A Witch King with a strawberry tempts a Jackal into the garden of mind games.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akabane learns that a serpent in hand is not safer than one in the brush.

Akabane resists the urge to fidget impatiently with his hat again. “Are we going to be serious now?”

Midou-kun is silent as he regards the transporter for a second. “We could,” he says thoughtfully, as if he’s thinking the challenge over. “But there’s a nice spread laid out here and I’m hungry. You probably are too, if you walked your ass all the way over here.” He gestures at the couch. “C’mon, take a load off and let’s have a snack before we get down to business.”

That seems fair enough. Akabane follows him over to the coffee table, and indeed, there is a lovely arrangement of various snack foods set in place. Midou-kun plops down in an oversized chair and props up his feet – it’s fortunate he’s not wearing his boots or that table would be at a loss – while Akabane settles on the far end of the couch with his feet firmly on the floor, back straight, knees together, hands clasped neatly in his lap.

Midou-kun toes a plate across the table in his direction. “Try the berries. They’re really good, especially if you put some of that whipped cream and chocolate stuff on ‘em.”

“Mm. I wouldn’t mind something to drink, if you don’t mind...perhaps just a glass of water, if you please?”

Midou-kun pauses in the act of yanking the cork out of a bottle of already-opened champagne. “You don’t like the bubbly? It’s good.”

If he didn’t know better Akabane would suspect the alcoholic beverage to be the cause behind Midou-kun’s curious mood, but Midou-kun doesn’t strike him as the type to get roaring drunk – or, if he does, he’s the kind of man who can hold his liquor well. “A small glass then, please. Thank you.”

“This place has it all. You should see the bathtub. It’s big enough to go swimming in...” Midou-kun pours two glasses, one of which is noticeably fuller than the other. He slides the smaller amount across the table, towards Akabane. “Bottoms up.”

“Thank you.” Akabane has to lean over to reach for the glass and when he does Midou-kun snatches his hat clean off his head before he has a chance to protest, flinging it across the room like a child’s toy. Akabane watches it sail through the air and float to the floor, stunned yet again by the other’s mysterious actions.

In response to his baffled stare Midou-kun says, “I want to see your face without that damn thing in the way for a change.”

“I like that hat,” Akabane hears himself say, foolishly, perhaps, but it’s the first thing that comes to his mind. Then again, today has been a day for repeated shocks so maybe this is just the icing on the cake.

“That’s obvious.” Midou-kun chuckles before stuffing a handful of berries into his mouth. “You know there’s a running pool over at the Honky Tonk trying to guess how you manage to keep that thing on in a fight?” He grins and a few juices ooze down from the corner of his mouth as he chews. “Tell me, Akabane, what's your secret? Duct tape? Crazy glue? Hairpins?”

Akabane doesn’t know what to say to that – it’s a rude comment anyway, so it’s best not to say anything. The other man doesn't seem to expect an answer so he sips at his champagne instead. Midou-kun was right, it is very good.

An awkward silence descends on them for several minutes. Midou-kun doesn’t look bothered by it, but Akabane wishes for once that something would fill that void. He’s dying to ask his share of questions but can’t seem to bring himself to form the words on his tongue, so loath is he to disturb the quiet and be seen as one so weak that mere silence has the power to break him.

_Why did you kiss me?_

_Why wouldn’t you fight me?_

Why _did you kiss me...?_

 _Why can’t I stop thinking about it? No one has ever done_ that _to me during a fight..._

Midou-kun interrupts his thoughts. “You want to know why you lost to me in Mugenjou?”

Akabane raises a delicate brow. “You already told me.”

“Yeah. But there’s more to it than that.”

“Oh?”

Midou-kun tilts his head back and flips a big strawberry into his mouth, catching it neatly between his teeth. He eats it and pushes his glasses a little bit higher on the bridge of his nose. He looks...not intense, more like focused. “There’s several key components to winning a fight. The first and most obvious one is _not_ to fight at all if you don’t have to. When you engage you need to use everything you’ve got or you’re screwed.”

Akabane studies him carefully, curiosity piqued. “You are saying, then, that I was not at my full potential when we fought? But I do not know my full strength. Why do you think I wish to meet with Raitei again? With you, even?”

“You don’t get it.” Midou-kun takes his feet down and sits up a little straighter. “It has nothing to do with strength or power. It’s how you use what you do have. To win a fight successfully – and by that I mean to win it with as few casualties as possible – you need these things: capability, strategy, and will. You have the capability and some of the strategy. But you don’t have the most important thing, and that’s will.”

Akabane’s brow arches higher at that. “I don’t recall any problem I had with challenging you in Mugenjou.”

Midou-kun waves a hand dismissively. “Not that. When I’m talking about will in this case, what I mean is purpose. There are purposes that will get you absolutely nowhere, and purposes that can move heaven and earth by sheer force of will. Remember what I told you about the things I learned from my meeting Ginji for the first time?”

“Sentimentality, I believe.” Akabane cocks his head slightly. “I’m afraid I do not understand.”

“I know you don’t.” Midou-kun adjusts his glasses. “You’re so damn used to one path you’ve closed yourself off to any others. You say you want excitement, something interesting, but you have no idea what you’re really missing out on.” He pauses, then adds caustically, “Or maybe you do, but you don’t have the guts to face it head on. Can’t say I entirely blame you for that, Jackal. I’ve been there and change is scary when you’re dealing with the unknown.”

Akabane frowns faintly. He doesn’t like what Midou-kun’s implying, even if it is interesting in its own way. He decides to say nothing for the time being, and cradles his glass in his palms. If one cannot say something pleasant it is better to remain silent.

Midou-kun has no such compunctions. “Where’d you learn how to fight the way you do?”

Akabane gives him a puzzled look. “From working, of course.”

“No, I don’t mean the transporting gig. I mean your tactics, your planning. Your moves and the patterns you favor. You’re ambidextrous but predominantly right-handed, am I right?”

Akabane blinks. Midou-kun’s reputation is feared amongst many for several reasons, not the least of which being that he is a master strategist who analyzes his opponents most thoroughly before moving in for the kill. “Yes,” he cautiously concedes. Though he must admit he is wondering where this is going.

And what that strange key is for...

“So. Who taught you how to fight?”

There is a pause. Another blueberry-crammed handful finds its way into Midou-kun’s mouth. “Someone I once knew,” Akabane says, looking away momentarily.

“Mm. He any good?”

Looking at his hands in their white gloves, long fingers cupped around the bowl of the glass, he says, “He was a sergeant.”

“Mmmm.” As if this explains everything.

Akabane continues to look at his hands, eyes briefly wandering from them to examine the texture of the couch’s material for lack of anything stimulating to add. Rare is it for him to find himself at such a loss for conversation but under the circumstances reticence is probably prudent. Movement in the corner of his eye draws his attention, and he lifts his gaze to find Midou-kun leaning towards him over the coffee table with a hand outstretched to him. He’s holding a strawberry dipped in chocolate sauce.

“Go on, try it.”

Akabane thinks. He really isn’t all that hungry, but it would be rude to refuse the hospitality. He sets down his champagne glass and reaches for the fruit. Midou-kun pulls it away. Confused, Akabane gives him a look as if to ask what game is being played now. Midou-kun merely watches him with hooded eyes and offers the strawberry to him once more. His arm is raised and his fingertips are pointing the berry at face level.

Oh dear.

Akabane suddenly realizes what Midou-kun wants and the idea gives him a trepidation he’s unfamiliar with. On some instinctual level he knows that by accepting this taste of forbidden fruit, he will also be giving unspoken consent to anything else Midou-kun tempts him with. Ordinarily he would relish this sort of opportunity, but after everything that’s happened today, and in the past weeks...this reminds him too much of the serpent’s tricks with the apple in that infamous garden. Except in this case he’s faced with the prospect of entering into a contract – a _covenant,_ dare he say it - with the king of all snakes tempting him with a chocolate-coated strawberry.

The beginnings of a sly smile are flirting with the edges of Midou-kun’s lips. _I_ dare _you,_ that look almost seems to say, and it makes the blood in Akabane’s veins simmer with a disturbing familiarity. Nonetheless, it’s clearly a challenge, and one that he finds himself powerless to resist.

Somewhat defiantly he leans forward, lips parted to take the offering. Midou-kun reaches up, gently tucks the berry in between his teeth which nip firmly at his fingertip and hold it in place. Akabane refuses to concede that easily. Call it a professional’s – or a predator’s - pride.

Midou-kun expects nothing less, for he makes no move to retrieve his finger from the other’s mouth. But once again he turns the situation to his advantage when he _pushes_ his finger deeper past Akabane’s lips and forces him to withdraw, lest he choke on the strawberry that’s already inside his mouth.

It’s just like it was when they dueled while on rivaling sides of the Venus de Milo job. Every time he thinks Midou-kun will react in a prescribed manner to something, the other man does the opposite of what Akabane is betting on. It never fails to catch him off-guard, which irks him much more than he’s willing to let Midou-kun know, and something tells him that Midou-kun’s already aware of this and enjoys it immensely.

At least one of them is having fun. But, Akabane thinks petulantly, why can’t it be him?

The berry with its rich coating is very good. The flavor is sweet and enhanced by the dark blanketing of chocolate that surrounds its outside. He chews it carefully and swallows, licking his lips daintily like a cat to clear away the tang. What he tastes afterward, he realizes, is Midou-kun’s skin: the barest hint of salt and tobacco leavened with a faint residual of the blueberries and cream that he was eating minutes ago.

The thought that he was briefly sucking on Midou-kun’s finger as if it was some sort of nourishment _almost_ brings a rush of warmth to his face – and other parts of his body - for reasons he can’t quite articulate. Have his senses temporarily taken their leave of him? How bloody – no pun intended – inconvenient at a time like this.

“There’s something I want to know,” Midou-kun says now as he rests his elbows on his thighs and steeples his fingers together in a pyramid shape. “Assuming you ever do discover exactly how powerful you can get...what are you going to do with all of it?”

An answer is on the tip of his tongue, truly it is...but for the life of him Akabane can’t seem to think straight enough to translate it into language the other would understand. So he sits there mutely, trapped for a suitable reply, and it doesn’t even occur to him that he’s just been snared in another of Midou-kun’s strategic ploys.

“I thought so.”

Akabane looks up sharply, a spark of irritation dancing in his purple eyes at what he perceives as a judgmental tone. He ought to be used by now to people condemning him for various reasons, but having it come from this man is more than he can tolerate, which is another area of unease he isn’t keen on exploring too closely. “I have plans,” he says a shade more tartly than he’d intended to.

Midou-kun looks amused by that. “Really? What are they? Wait, don't tell me – you’re gonna rule the world. Bor-ing. I figured you for more creative than that, Jackal.”

Now Akabane is angry. He doesn’t enjoy being mocked any more than Midou-kun enjoys getting stabbed by his scalpels – which, if he keeps this up, is likely to happen sooner rather than later. “That isn’t it.”

“Then what are you going to do?”

He thinks quickly, telling himself to keep a tight leash on his temper. He will not be goaded into a petty argument. He’s seen how nasty Midou-kun can be when he’s intent on riling somebody. It’s a ruse, a trick to force the opponent’s hand so that Midou-kun can crush them with a counterattack. He knows better than to fall for that. Akabane resolutely ignores the fact that he already has at least once today.

Opting for a reply that will hopefully unbalance Midou-kun for a change, he says with a cool calmness, “I don’t know yet. But rest assured, when an idea comes to me, you and Ginji-kun will be among the first to learn of it.” He smiles a polite yet poisonous smile, the kind that says _watch your back_ in no uncertain terms. In his experience, when those who cross him see this look, they usually start running in the other direction, not that they get very far before a big bright J puts a stop to their antics.

Not so with Midou-kun. Incredibly, he mirrors the expression and somehow it seems much deadlier on him than it does Akabane. “I think it goes a little deeper than that, Jackal.”

“Hmph. Have you more psycho-pop drivel to bore me with?”

Midou-kun shakes his head. “No, just a damn good understanding of human nature. I don’t know about you, but I hate head-shrinkers.”

Before Akabane can agree with this assessment he gets up from his seat and approaches him. Akabane stays where he is, unwilling to give ground in this new assault on his senses. Midou-kun is clearly up to something...but what?

The answer comes in the form of a hand being offered to him. Akabane tentatively reaches out to take Midou-kun’s grasp. His gloved hand is accepted and turned over, palm side up. Midou-kun’s thumb rubs in a slow circle along the center of his palm, pressing slightly into his hand. Even through the glove the touch manages to ignite a fever in his flesh, and his eyes slip shut briefly before flicking back open again. His scars have always been sensitive areas for him.

“This is where they all come from, huh? That’s gotta hurt, shooting one out. I can’t even imagine how you deal with a whole hurricane.”

He looks up silently at Midou-kun. Pain has been a constant ever since he can remember and he’s learned to live with it to the point where he doesn’t even notice it anymore, and the tradeoff he gets in return is well worth any minor inconvenience. Sometimes...the pain itself is its own pleasure, in a way. All power has its price - it’s just that Akabane's tithe is paid in flesh...and blood.

As if sensing these thoughts the blue gaze turns darker. “What’s the fascination with all the blood?”

“Blood is life.” The answer springs impulsively to his lips and Akabane doesn’t know why, only that it seems a fitting thing to say.

Midou-kun digests this, still turning the white-clothed hand over in his own. “Yeah, that’s true in one sense. But it isn’t _being_ alive, Jackal.”

“Then what is?”

Midou-kun sighs, and there’s suddenly a surprising age-old weariness in his gaze. He is what they would call an old soul, someone who has lived many lifetimes in the space of one and who has learned far more of the ways of the world than is probably healthy for his state of mind. A startling flicker of sympathy wells up in Akabane’s chest. Is it possible that Midou-kun might understand more of him than he thought previously?

Impossible. Midou-kun is powerful enough to have killed – he can sense the blood-taint on him, even though it’s old – but that is all they have in common. He doesn’t understand why the serpent-master with all his skills and strength would willingly abstain from the thrilling rigors of battle, and Midou-kun can’t fathom what drives Akabane to press his power to its fullest limit.

“Being alive, Jackal...it’s not something that can be put into so many words. It’s just something you _know,”_ Midou-kun says now. “What is it for you?”

Akabane watches as he continues to idly stroke his fingers over the smooth whiteness of his glove. The touch is spreading pleasant tingles down his arm and he’s unsure whether or not to pull his hand away. “You remember. In Mugenjou...what I said...” A most peculiar place, that unending fortress. It tells lie upon lie and yet breaks down barriers as easily as pollen scatters on the wind. He thinks of Ginji-kun and his stunning transformation to Lightning Emperor and back again.

Blue eyes narrow. “You feel alive only when you’re fighting and killing your opponents? That makes no sense, Jackal. What do you do with the rest of your life when you’re not working? You can’t be out on jobs twenty-four-seven...and if your body count was as prolific in your spare time as it is when you’re on duty it would’ve been all over the news ages ago. Is that all you live for? Why?”

Akabane gives a little shrug. “What else is there? It interests me. I find it fascinating when I meet someone as strong as you, or Ginji-kun. The weaker ones...they aren't as satisfying.” He studies Midou-kun, noting the lack of tension that normally accompanies his expression whenever he’s faced with such bluntness. He’s not so much angry as he is...disappointed? Why is it that Akabane feels suddenly like he’s committed an inadvertent _faux pas?_ “Surely you must know. You like to fight. I know you do. I don’t understand why you deny yourself this pleasure when it is so readily available.”

Midou-kun stops caressing his hand but doesn’t let go of it. He looks at it, and then at Akabane. “I may enjoy kicking the shit out of somebody who deserves it, but I don’t like spilling needless blood when it can just as easily be avoided. That’s the difference between you and me.”

“But you _have_ done it,” Akabane presses.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you do it, if you didn’t enjoy it?”

Midou-kun throws the question right back at him. “Why do you go through the motions of living when you don’t seem to get any other pleasure out of it?”

To his annoyance Akabane finds himself stuck for an answer. “Because I have no choice,” he says, knowing it’s a pathetic reply and feeling irritated at himself for resorting to it.

Midou-kun smiles slightly, a hint of serpentine ice in it. “There’s your answer.”

Akabane takes a moment to sort this out. “You had to kill an enemy? But that is perfectly reasonable, Midou-kun. Otherwise you would have been the one to die.”

“He wasn’t an enemy. He was somebody...somebody I cared about. Family.” Midou-kun’s tone is subdued now, heavy with memory. He looks almost sadly at Akabane. “You ever have one of those, Jackal?”

Akabane is used to people’s ill manners, their penchant for asking too-personal questions. Over the years he has developed a remarkable patience for tolerating them, in addition to suitable responses to all of the standard inquiries, depending on the asker and his mood at the time. But with Midou-kun doing the questioning there is no perfect answer he can give without exposing more than he prefers to confess. And anyway, why should he care about Akabane’s personal life, or lack thereof? He fixes Midou-kun with a glacial smile of his own.

“The Jackal has no use for one.” There, let him read into that what he will.

Midou-kun accepts this with a slow nod. “So. You fight endlessly, killing just for the sake of killing, and you don’t let anybody get close enough to you to form any sort of emotional attachments.” He sets Akabane’s hand back on the couch and leans down, bracing his hands on his thighs. His eyes reveal a disgust that cuts Akabane to the quick where he least expects it. “That sounds like the best recipe for loneliness I ever heard.”

 _He is just taunting you...Why do you care so much what he thinks...There is only one thing that matters..._ Akabane finds himself caught between a seething frustration and a wound that scars so deeply the very mention of it sends his inner barriers crashing down to block it out, so ferocious is the horror that’s still fresh long after its execution. Before he can stop himself he blurts out, “What makes you think that I’m lonely?”

Midou-kun rises to full height and crosses his arms over his chest. “I didn’t say that, Jackal. You did.”

He rests his hands on his hips, arching his back in a stretch as he tilts his head towards the ceiling. “’Mugenjou is a place for the lonely people to gather.’ Friggin’ threadspool came up with that, can you believe it? Much as it pains me to admit, sometimes Ginji’s old gang buddies aren’t as dumb as I think. Small wonder you too were attracted to that place on our missions.”

He walks away. Too late Akabane realizes the trap that’s been sprung on him – how very clever Midou-kun must think himself to be now. Infuriated at having been tricked yet again he stands up, fists unconsciously closing over a few scalpels that extend instinctively in self-defense. “That’s quite enough of this nonsense. I thought we were going to be serious when you invited me here. Instead you’ve been playing these insipid games with me all evening. I've grown weary of it.”

He brandishes the scalpels and takes a few steps towards Midou-kun who’s paused in the doorway of another room. “Either fight with me now, or I start writing my initials into your corpse. Which is it to be?”

“Hmm...I think neither.”

Akabane’s voice grows coldly soft, a prelude to death. “There are no other options, Midou-kun.”

“Sure there are. The ones we make for ourselves. Wasn’t it you who once said that if there was no door, we could just make one?”

Thrown off-guard by his own words tossed into his face Akabane falters for a moment. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What did you mean?”

Akabane takes a deep breath and lets it stream past his lips in an irritable sigh. “It doesn’t matter. Fight me, now, and do it properly this time.” He takes another step in Midou-kun’s direction with raised scalpels.

“You won’t do it.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said you won’t do it. Kill me, that is. Or Ginji for that matter. Not that you ever had a snowball’s chance in hell of it. Doing that represents the ultimate achievement for you and when we’re gone, what yardstick are you gonna have to measure yourself by?” Midou-kun’s snakelike smile returns. “For all that you accuse us Get Backers of holding back you’re pretty lacking in will yourself. It’s because you’re scared, isn’t it?” His eyes darken with the sinister gleam of one who knows he's got the scent of fatally wounded prey fixed in his grasp. “Scared...of ending up alone. No one to care about your pleasure or your pain. No one to care whether you live or die.”

His voice gets soft, hissing. “No one who truly knows Kuroudo Akabane, the man, or Doctor Jackal, the beast. Not like we do. No one who understands all of you...the way that I do.”

Akabane closes his eyes for a moment, a dull headache beginning to make his temples throb. He has to take several slow, quiet breaths to try to calm the anxiety building in the pit of his stomach and surging into his chest. Those deadly words have left him in shreds inside, their truth resonating within a part of himself he is indeed afraid to acknowledge. He opens his eyes and scowls at Midou-kun. “I admit that I find you and Ginji-kun to be the most interesting people I've known. But _only_ when you’re serious,” he stresses. “You have a distressing tendency to spout insignificant prattle.”

Midou-kun leans arrogantly against the wall. “Know what I like about you, Jackal? You’re honest with us. No, really,” he adds upon seeing Akabane’s incredulous look. “You might stretch and bend the truth some to fit your whims, but you’ve never outright lied to me or to Ginji. And I should know. People say I have a snake’s tongue, but I’ve met some real dishonest assholes in my time.” Midou-kun gives a bitter-sounding laugh. “But you, you’re different...You’re a major fucking pain in the ass, but you’re an honest and weirdly _honorable_ major fucking pain in the ass and that makes all the difference to me.”

He comes over to Akabane again, his handsome features beginning to take on a subtle menace. “But right now, you’re lying to me and I don’t like it. So cut the bullshit and tell me the truth. You’re scared of what we – I - make you feel. It's not living that whittles you down, Jackal, it's pointless slaughter. Without that cheap thrill you're scared you won't have any meaning at all left to your life. I don’t doubt that you get off on smacking your opponents around, but somewhere along the way you started using it as an excuse to deny what you really want.”

Akabane’s fingers clench harder around the scalpels in his palms as the unease worms its way into and cracks apart his professional demeanor. He’s trying very hard to ignore the accusations leveled at him but Midou-kun is striking right where he knows his fangs will do the most damage and that breach is swinging the gates wide open for another attack. He lets his knives recede and starts to edge away from the approaching retriever, closer towards the door. Fighting and then running away to live for the next battle some other day has never been an appealing option to him, but right now it’s the wisest course of action if he wants to preserve what’s left of his tattered dignity. “I didn’t lie. I want to fight you two because your strength is a perfect match for mine. It’s the only kind I’ve ever found that even comes close...”

“Liar. That’s not what you want.” Midou-kun stops in his advance and stares hard at Akabane for a long minute. Then he turns around and heads for a different room.

That... _insolence_...it and Midou-kun’s casual dismissal both sting like a raw cut. _Let it go!_ his inner senses warn, immediately catching the inherent danger this time, but Akabane is consumed by the need to defend himself even though he logically knows that he owes no one, least of all this scrappy uncooperative would-be opponent, an explanation of his motives.

He storms after Midou-kun. “Since when do you consider yourself an expert on _my_ desires?” he hisses loudly. “You know what I am and I know what you are, yet you’re the one who persists in denying your true nature. I’d say you’re the one with the problem of not being able to admit what you want.”

Midou-kun is inside the master bedroom now. He flicks on the switch of a nightstand lamp and starts to pull off his white overshirt. “There’s where you’re wrong. I have no problem admitting what I want. Know what I want, Jackal?” He flashes a feral smile. “I want enough money to keep me in ciggies and snacks into my old-fart age. I want for Ginji to be happy. I want the monkey-training bastard to pull the stick out of his ass and piss off to whatever little enchanted forestland he dicks around in. I want my car never to get towed again and I want Takuma Fudou to second-sight himself straight into a permanent coma. I want Paul to quit bitching at me about the tab the Get Backers owe and for him to keep us supplied in fresh pizzas for as long as it takes.”

The shirt gets flung over a nearby chair. “And I want to strip you down and get you in that nice big bed over there and fuck you so good and hard you scream bloody murder for me.”

Silence drops on them like a sledgehammer. Akabane rocks backward on his heels, left utterly speechless by the last bit of that tirade.

Midou-kun did _not_ just say what he’s pretty certain he heard.

The snake-sorcerer smirks. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed what kind of body you keep all wrapped up hidden in that trenchcoat. I didn't just come down with the last drop of bloody rain. The way you look at me when you think nobody's watching is practically an advertisement in itself! You think I can't tell a switch when I see one?”

Akabane’s voice sounds strained and thin to his ears when he finally answers back. “I _beg_ your pardon?” he says stiffly, mustering as much indignant offense into the phrase as he can.

Midou-kun affects a cocky pose, complete with superior smirk. “No more flirting with danger, Jackal. Tonight you’re gonna make up your mind – do you wanna fight me or fuck me? You only get one chance so you'd better pick the winning ticket. Only one of those choices gives you any hope of a future you'll be able to live with.”

A frustrated Akabane's head is fairly reeling with the sudden broadside into insanity, and he misses the surge of temper that sneaks into his tone. “Why won’t you just fight me? Why won’t you let _Raitei_ fight me?”

Midou-kun’s smirk instantly vanishes and his voice turns oddly sad. “You’d bring death upon your own head, Jackal? Do you really hate yourself that much? Or are you so desperate for escape that you'll suffer any price?” He pauses. “I think it's both. Know how I know? That's the way I used to feel.”

_Until Amano Ginji came along..._

“We're not so alike, Akabane, but we're not so different either. You think you know me, but I know you better than you could ever dream of. You hurt, so you make others hurt, and when they hurt you back it validates your existence. No wonder you're so lonely. No one could fathom what it's like to experience that kind of darkness...”

_Except another who has lived it as his own..._

The pity in those blue eyes is more than the Jackal can stand. To hell with pursuing limits. Fuming, Akabane decides he’s just reached his where Midou Ban's maddening behavior is concerned. He whirls on his heels and speeds for the exit.

“Running from yourself again, Jackal?”

It’s not nearly as scathing as Midou-kun’s previous mockery but it’s cold and hard and enough to snap Akabane’s last shreds of control. He spins and hurls a double handful of knives in Midou-kun’s direction with deadly accuracy despite his upset state. But the scalpels wind up embedded in the wall behind the other man and he glares at both them and his opponent, his chest heaving with a churning rage he hasn’t felt in ages.

“You...you have no idea what it’s like! To have such incredible power but never know how far it goes or what it can fully do! What it does _to_ you! Secrets only hinted of by the night, always whispering, whispering, in the back of your head, never any rest from endless craving! Why possess this power at all if you aren’t meant to, if it cannot be harnessed in the end?” Akabane knows he’s talking too fast, revealing too much, but he can’t help himself now in the face of Midou-kun’s provocations. “Power always has its price. What it demands from me – You speak of getting back what has been lost, but what about that which is sacrificed? Once and for all I want to know exactly what my limits are. I have to _know._ And maybe...maybe then I can finally find an answer that will suffice.”

_Maybe then I will finally be at peace...even if I must trade one hell for another._

“What if there is no answer? There are some mysteries that can never be completely unraveled. And maybe they aren’t meant to be. It’s enough that they’re there for us to contemplate. Is that acceptance so difficult for you to handle?”

Akabane snarls at him. “So what if it is?”

“There’s been plenty of philosophers picking at that carcass since time began and nobody’s ever yet found a satisfying conclusion to what death is, or any meaning it might have. What makes you think that killing is going to bring you any closer to enlightenment? That sounds like some sort of fucked-up Fudou reasoning!”

He can see them now, see the many faces that are swimming up from his past, too many nameless to count, mostly random strangers he encountered in his first profession. Those that stand out are the brightest, their profiles clear and perfect and accusing, each one asking - demanding - _Why?_

_Why did you let me –_

_Why wouldn’t you release me -_

Akabane shakes his head, trying to wipe the images from his sight, get the cacophony of voices out of his mind. The deluge is so swift and overwhelming it’s too much to bear, far more painful than the calling of his powers whenever he pulls forth the scalpels or the sword. But the worst is yet to come.

“I have to _know,”_ he insists, despising the catch in his voice as he speaks, hating himself for the way he wrings and claws at himself, desperately needing to inflict pain on flesh, any flesh, as a distraction from the reality he can no longer ignore, incapable of further explaining to Midou-kun just why it is that he needs to do what he does.

Those blue eyes cut like a laser into him. “Why?”

 _Why?_ It’s the eternal question for anyone, but most especially for Akabane. This is the question that’s driven him ever since...

_Why?_

And that last perfect, innocent face bursts into his mind’s eye like a fireworks display as it sears away all other memories and leaves behind only bitterness, sorrow, horror, _guilt_ in its wake.

Poor child. Poor, poor child. He was so young when he -

The cry is scandalous in its shame and remorse as it resonates throughout the room.

 _“Because I don’t understand why people died when I_ did _try to stop it!”_

Two sets of eyes, one sapphire, one amethyst, widen in the vacuum that immediately follows. Akabane is completely mortified by his outburst, clapping a hand over his mouth to prevent anything more from humiliating him, but it’s far too late for that. Midou-kun has successfully hooked those serpent’s teeth in him and torn open the underbelly he has worked so hard to conceal for so long.

He can't breathe; he can't speak. He can't move. So he turns and runs, heedless of anything now except the need to flee.

He gets as far as the coffee table where they shared their refreshments before Midou-kun chases after and catches him, winding strong arms around his torso so he can’t get away. “Jackal,” he says quietly, his mouth close to Akabane’s ear.

Akabane freezes stiffly in place, refusing to look at him as he bites off each word with icy precision. “Let me go.”

Midou-kun’s breath is warm and tickles his skin. “No. Never again.”

Akabane closes his eyes momentarily at the hot stinging that’s been building since Midou-kun began prying into his darkness. He forces away the suspicious dampness behind his eyelids and reopens his eyes, drawing his features into a frozen glare. He struggles suddenly, stabs at Midou-kun with a scalpel but deep down inside he knows it’s a lost cause. The other grabs his wrists in the vise of his own hands and they wrestle viciously before Midou-kun gets his back up against a wall. Trapped. Again.

Worse, more humiliation is coming – in the form of those dreaded kisses, which plant themselves firmly on his mouth. Akabane wrenches his face away and turns his head as far as he can to one side but this doesn’t deter Midou-kun. The kisses simply latch onto his cheek, traveling leisurely along the side of his jaw before attaching firmly to his neck. Akabane trembles with both fury and desire. The latter, he tries to tell himself, is for the blood of this fanged devil, but the tenderness of the touch and its heat, its slickness...the arousing sensations swirling perilously in his lower regions bespeak of something else...

“Stop it,” he hisses, disliking the shakiness of his tone. Why must Midou-kun’s touch affect him so?

A tongue traces its relentless path on his neck as Midou-kun’s teeth graze his pulse. His lips soon follow. “I thought you liked it when I kissed you in Mugenjou. Don’t you enjoy this too?”

“No.”

“Funny. This right here says you do.”

Akabane nearly squeals with shock as a corded thigh insinuates itself between his legs and rubs ever so slightly at his groin. The _nerve!_ A tiny yelp does slip from him at the brazen contact, which sends sparks shooting through his body that he vehemently tries to prevent from igniting, but his traitorous flesh has other ideas. With unabashed outrage he turns his head back and glares at Midou-kun.

“What do you think you’re doing?! I thought you weren’t going to fight me!”

Midou-kun lifts his face to smile in a predatory fashion at him. “What’s it look like? It’s not fighting I had in mind, Jackal.”

“I’m not – “ He doesn’t get a chance to finish his sentence because his lips have been captured by the other’s. Akabane tries to pull away but the back of his head bumps almost painfully against the wall, reminding him that he’s got no place to go, not with Midou-kun’s body pinning him in place. He makes an angry noise in his throat but all this does is invite retaliation via a tongue that promptly plunges inside his mouth. His lips peel back in an unvoiced snarl as he prepares to bite at the unwelcome adventurer, but then that thigh is back and sliding seamlessly against his rising erection, and the pleasurable friction distracts him from his intent. It’s only moments before he’s lost to it.

To his chagrin he realizes he’s started pushing back against Midou-kun’s leg, deliberately aiming for more of that intimate contact, the invasive kisses all but forgotten while he seeks another interest. This allows Midou-kun to pursue a more thorough investigation of his mouth, one Akabane doesn’t resist because he’s so caught up in his new focus, and eventually the kisses meld with the caresses to become a tantalizing whole.

 _Do not do this!_ Yet he can’t help but lose the starch in his posture, his taut muscles softening in Midou-kun’s grip as the other man works his serpentine magic on him. He isn’t even aware that his wrists have been released, or that his freed hands have come up to knead a pair of broad shoulders as Midou-kun slides his hands around his waist, splaying them along the sides of his hips, and then lowering them still further to cup the smooth firmness of his posterior and pull him in even closer so their bodies are touching from chest to thigh.

Akabane’s too intent on trading tongue-kisses with him to notice this – until Midou-kun squeezes his handfuls just hard enough to get his attention. He gasps softly, a shuddering sound that carries over into a moan, as liquid heat rushes to his groin almost immediately.

_What is happening to me!?_

He’s never felt anything like this before...part of him wants to enjoy and draw it out to its fullest conclusion, the other half is screaming at him to flee before he loses himself completely...

Midou-kun’s eyes connect with his for an electrifying second, then he lowers his mouth to Akabane’s neck again, still rocking their hips together in agonizingly slow motion. His voice is muffled against his skin. “Is bloodlust all you can feel? How about just plain lust for a change? Or is there something else that bothers you about doing this?”

Akabane’s mind is too fogged at the moment to come up with a coherent answer and he stares blankly while Midou-kun works his way up to his lips again. His eyes close, his body arching against the other’s as Midou-kun ravishes him with all the precision of one of his own knives. He feels fingertips prying apart the buttons of his coat, hands pulling the heavy cloak off his shoulders and down, away from his body, then a tugging at his hands and registers the whispers of a pair of gloves being removed and likewise dropped to the floor.

When Midou-kun lifts each palm, kisses his scars one by one and laps his tongue roughly over their centers, it’s like a benediction that sends a lightning bolt searing through his entire body. A whimper escapes him that startles them both in its harsh need, and he quickly bites down on his lip to stifle any more of the same. He’s already revealed far too much this night.

Midou-kun’s lips are back, urging his own apart. “What do you want, Akabane?” he murmurs.

Akabane doesn’t even know that he’s spoken the words aloud. “To be alive,” he whispers.

Blue eyes pull back and slowly roast him with an unquenchable flame. “Do I make you feel that way? I can, if you want me to...”

He’s startled to realize that yes, he _does_ want that. Very much so. This is Midou-kun’s talent, cutting to the heart of a matter to obtain the true purpose of that which he demands, what he will not be denied. The truth of what Akabane is reluctant to admit even to himself: though he may desire Raitei, he _longs_ for Midou-kun, and not just out of a yearning for an unfulfilled fight. He has ever since they first met, when he caught the scent of a kindred spirit hunted, and hunting in return for that elusive _something_ that he cannot name but knows in his heart what its part could play for his unusual destiny.

“When was the last time you got laid, Jackal?”

Unbidden, one of the thoughts that’s been tormenting Akabane over the past several weeks unfolds in his mind’s eye: the two of them together with no barriers but skin to skin, their only weapons sensation and intrigue instead of fists or swords, his hair splashed across the pillows like an ebony waterfall where he arches in need from the mattress as Midou-kun repeatedly plunges his dagger into him, and he moans while he’s writhing, raking his nails across a sweat-dampened back, urging the other on with every breathless cry, each rise of slim hips beneath, unable to get enough of this snake’s toxin as its pleasure stabs with sweet fangs through every limb to the very core of him.

Midou-kun must have seen something of this fantasy reflected in his face because he half-smiles. “Damn. Is it that good of a dream, Jackal?”

Akabane doesn’t say anything. There’s nothing left to say; he can’t help what his eyes have already spoken for.

Midou-kun’s smile broadens and he leans in as if he’s going to kiss him again. “You know why they say you should be careful what you wish for?” he says softly.

Numbly Akabane shakes his head.

“’Cause your dreams might come true.”

Just like that, Akabane is simply...frozen, paralyzed by this serpent’s enchantment.

Is Midou-kun...really going to...?

...with him..!

He can feel his pulse throbbing wildly and his blood humming with a new kind of excitement at the very idea, and a terror that’s never occurred to him before now has him in its jaws. Does he _really_ want this, in spite of all the risks it carries?

Midou-kun senses the quandary he’s facing. “What’s the matter, Jackal? Are you afraid you won’t enjoy it?” He leans in even closer, so close they’re sharing breath now, and his voice drops to a husky exhalation. “Or are you afraid you will?”

Silence surrounds them like a thick blanket. Midou-kun’s hand slowly reaches up, warm palm cupping the side of Akabane’s face as fingers weave through his hair, trail down his skin, his jaw. The tip of a thumb slides along his bottom lip – which he doesn’t realize is quivering – in a feather-light caress, as soft as a new rose petal.

Midou-kun knows _everything,_ and he can’t stand it any longer.

The thumb-touch is what completely undoes him. Akabane closes his eyes with a wordless cry and hurls himself at this sensuous viper of a man with a desperation that for the first time surpasses even that of his lust for combat.

Midou-kun catches him, lets him lock their mouths together for what seems like both an eternity and yet not nearly long enough – then he’s pulling them apart and offering a wry grin. “Been a long time for you, hasn’t it? I can tell. You’re starving for it. Jackal.” That last word carries a hint of amusement, rife with multiple meanings.

He starts to tow Akabane back into the bedroom. “Fortunately for you, so am I.”

The implications of that statement leave Akabane breathless with anticipation. Tonight will be a feast for them both.

\--


	3. Old grudges...or new alliances?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Choices at a crossroads bring old rivals Ban and Akabane new pleasures.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M/M content in these next two chapters, folks. Carry on. :)

Outside, the night has cocooned the world in its shroud of stardust. The only light in the bedroom is that of the lamp on the nightstand, which lends the room an expectant ambiance in its glow. A bower has been prepared for him, for them, for this moment that will forever alter the course of their fates.

Nervousness races in Akabane’s chest, his stomach, but it’s become a pleasant sort of palpitation now, the kind that one feels when knowing some monumental transformation is about to take place. He cleaves to Midou-kun as the other brings him in for a heated kiss, the two of them winding their limbs around each other as the challenge begins. He’s fairly purring as he rubs against his seducer, his body thrumming with an electricity that Ginji-kun could probably tap if the Raitei had it in him to do so – which given his unique abilities is quite probable. Everything feels so hypersensitive, from the uncomfortable cling of crisp fabric against his damp skin to the heaviness of the air to the escalation of breath that’s coming from both of them as they indulge themselves.

Akabane is not picky about his lovers' gender. Mechanics interest him far less than does the potential for exploration, the discovery of horizons new and enthralling, and both sexes possess this capability in generous amounts, depending on the individual. He has known both men and women who have shared with him priceless experiences, the memories of which have endured long since the ebbing purges of their physical climax trickled away.

It's quite an unexpected thrill to find that Midou-kun evidently holds the same view.

Midou-kun fists one hand in Akabane’s jet dark hair, the other running down his back to grasp his hip and then his rear, pressing into him more fully. Fingers attack his vest and unbutton it before reaching inside to yank out the front ends of his shirt and go after those next. Impatient with the speed at which the stubborn buttons are yielding Midou-kun jerks roughly on the shirt and for a second Akabane thinks he might just tear it off him, but the Jagan master calms himself and instead his hands lift to Akabane’s neck. The tie is much more cooperative in being undone and the two top shirt buttons are likewise as obedient.

Midou-kun buries his face in the hollow of Akabane’s throat, his mouth hot and moist, and sharp teeth nip lightly at the skin there. Purple eyes slip shut as he sighs and the wisp of breath trails across the side of Midou-kun’s head through his ruffled hair. Sultry blue eyes rise and gaze into his own and the kisses, those maddening kisses, rain anew upon his mouth. This time he welcomes them with parted lips, inviting Midou-kun inside for a taste and tasting him in return.

Tongues twine as lips explore salt-slick skin and Akabane feels something hard nudging the inside of his thigh, and with a delicious shiver he realizes it’s Midou-kun’s own erection. A small moan issues from his throat and he clutches anything he can grab at - handfuls of the other man’s tank top, his mussed brown hair - rocking his hips eagerly against Midou-kun and savoring that promising friction as their kiss deepens.

“Ah – ah!” Suddenly Midou-kun is wincing and pushing him away. Confused as to what’s happening now Akabane blinks at him, staring, clueless as to what's wrong.

Midou-kun raises a brow and his eyes dart to where Akabane’s fingers are digging into his scalp, giving the transporter a meaningful look. Akabane lets go of his hair and lifts his hand, and it’s then that he understands why the other wanted him to stop.

Four shiny tips, all razor-sharp in their lethality, are partially protruding from between his fingers.

Akabane’s lips form a small o of surprise. It’s extremely rare for him to forget himself and lose control like that; indeed, such an occurrence is nearly unheard of. Such inexcusable conduct could cost him a higher toll than he’s prepared to gamble. And this is the second time tonight (or third, if their earlier skirmish in the alley still counts) he’s disregarded restraint and let emotion sweep him away. His face warms with humiliation. He ought to know better than this.

Fortunately Midou-kun doesn’t seem to be terribly put-out, although his desire has been muted by the unexpected intrusion of Akabane’s scalpels into their haven. “Yeah. Let’s take care of something before we go any further.”

He disengages from Akabane and goes over to the closet. Upon opening it he steps inside and emerges a moment later carrying a large wooden chest that looks heavy. It’s very old though it’s been crafted with an expert’s skill; that much Akabane can recognize. It’s obviously an antique. The worn wood has a lovely dark patina to it which says it’s something that’s been kept well for many, many years. It has no padlock on it however, which means the key he transported earlier also does not fit this scene.

Midou-kun sets the chest on the floor at the end of the bed. He looks at Akabane and starts talking. “I asked Maria Noches if she’d let me borrow this. She used to look after me when I was a kid, you know. One day Natsuhiko Miroku and I were screwing around in my grandma’s attic, looking for stuff to entertain ourselves with. I found that chest in one corner and we were playing hide and seek with it when Natsuhiko, that bastard, got it into his head to trip the latch shut on me when it was my turn to climb in it. Neither of us knew it then but that chest had had a spell put on it by Maria. She only found me when Natsuhiko panicked and couldn’t figure out how to undo the latch to let me escape, so he ran to get her. She told me if he hadn’t gone to look for her, I’d have died in there. Anything that goes into it can’t be brought out again unless the magic is properly manipulated.”

He displays the chest’s ability, kneeling down and turning the latch’s pin. It snaps apart with an audible groan and Midou-kun lifts the lid on it, tilting the top all the way back so Akabane can come nearer and see inside. It looks quite ordinary aside from some dust.

Midou-kun stands up and looks at the chest, then at Akabane. “Give me your tie.”

He nods and pulls the loosened garment away from his shirt collar, handing it to the other man who tosses it into the chest. Midou-kun shuts the lid and trips the latch.

“Try to open it now.”

Akabane cocks his head to one side as he approaches. Looks easy enough. The latch is plain and could probably be pried off if there was a real need to do so. He leans down and tries to unhook it, but the metal refuses to give an inch. He attempts to use a scalpel as a screwdriver, thinking that it will be easier to jimmy the device open, but some invisible forcefield protecting the latch sends a sizzle of current along the blade and he nearly drops it in his surprise.

“Doesn’t work, does it?” Midou-kun smiles knowingly. “I told you. Magic. Watch.”

He gently nudges Akabane out of the way and easily spins the tumbler loose. The latch opens as if it’s been freshly greased, without a sound. Midou-kun lifts the lid and retrieves his tie, handing it back to Akabane.

How interesting. He always suspected that there was far more to Midou-kun than the man would ever let on.

Akabane gives him a small smile of his own as he folds his tie into a neat rectangle and places it over the back of a chair nearby. “What does this box have to do with...us?” Saying that feels strange on his lips, as if giving volume to the words will make this dimension dissolve into the ether of a Jagan. Some part of him, a part he refuses to give credence to, fears exactly this, even if his conscious mind won’t acknowledge it.

Midou-kun gives him an appraising glance. “How many of those knives you got on you, Jackal?”

That’s an odd question coming at a time like this. Akabane thinks. “At any given time? It depends on what I want to do during a fight,” he says with a shrug. “If you are asking me how many different _types_ of scalpels I own, then your answer is more concrete.”

An eyebrow poises in a caterpillar’s arch. “Types?”

“I can change the materials they’re made from into others. Ask Ginji-kun about it sometime, I’m sure he’ll be happy to explain it.” Akabane half-smiles as he remembers the look of comical horror on Ginji-kun’s face when he told him about that little trick.

Midou-kun will probably not find the story as amusing, however. He looks now at Akabane and says, “Fine. How many different types of knife material do you have?”

“One hundred and eight,” Akabane replies with a peculiar note of smugness, the threat of passion temporarily receding in the wake of professional pride. “Though I suppose technically it would be one hundred and nine now, after my meeting with Kagami-kun in Mugenjou...” He raises a hand to demonstrate, plucking forth scalpels as he starts to list them off. “I have all the basic metals. Ceramic ones, titanium ones, plastic ones, glass, iron, the diamond of course, silicon, ivory, copper, platinum – “

Midou-kun holds up his hands. He looks thunderstruck and he hasn’t even heard one tenth of Akabane’s list yet. “Okay, okay, I get the idea! Holy shit, Jackal. How the hell do you fit all that crap inside you without setting off alarms everywhere you go?”

Akabane pouts slightly. “They’re not solid when they’re inside me.” He sighs, lowering his gaze to his hands. Without the gloves to conceal them the scars are vivid in their implications. “It’s complicated. In their primitive matter the materials are too small to be viewed with plain eyesight, but I know they’re there. When I need them, I simply...call for them, and they solidify as they should.” He fingers one of the knives, studying its blade before letting it retreat with the others save but one, which he keeps out as an idle distraction. “I can change their shape as well, and amplify the amount of source material to form as many knives as I wish. I can make the blades longer or bigger as I need. Or alter the sharpness itself...”

Midou-kun lets out a long, slow whistle. Clearly he’s impressed. “Where'd you get all that junk? Did you just swallow a whole bunch of knives from some stray circus act, or do you need a source material to base their creation from?”

“I started with one of the simpler scalpels.” Akabane delicately licks his lips as he ponders how much information to share. “You might say that it’s the progenitor of them all...but it isn’t in its original shape either. My powers converted it into a base long ago. I require a source to give the knives their solid form – that is how Ginji-kun was able to defeat me when I first met you two. They were all made of plain metal then and he used his electromagnetism to pull them out.” A fine shudder races through Akabane as he relives the memory of that exquisite agony. No one has ever done _that_ to him either.

His fingers turn the lone scalpel over several times. Come to think of it, the Get Backers are the only people he’s known who can do things to and with him that he’s never experienced or felt before...no wonder he wants to play with them so often. Novelty is a wonderful stimulant.

“What about that sword of yours? That’s not sourced too, is it?”

Akabane shakes his head. “It belongs to me,” he says softly, meaning it is not from any outside element.

Midou-kun nods slowly. “I didn’t think that one was any regular material. Where did you get something like that?”

Purple eyes wander hesitantly to the floor. “It’s a long story.”

“You can tell it to me later,” Midou-kun says, not sounding bothered by Akabane’s reluctance to discuss the subject further. He opens the chest lid all the way and hooks his thumbs in his pants pockets expectantly.

Akabane looks at him, elegant brows creasing with consternation. “Surely you can’t mean – “

“Oh yeah. Go on, Jackal. I want them all. Every last piece of source material.”

Unsuccessful at quelling the spike of unease by the suggestion that he deprive himself of his weaponry he shakes his head again. “They’ll only return to where they came from. Don’t forget I have complete control over their actions,” Akabane solemnly reminds him.

“Maybe not so much as you think you do.” Midou-kun’s smile is calm. “What just happened – “

Akabane looks at the remaining knife still in his hand. He flexes his fingers and the scalpel recedes. “I apologize. An impulse. It won’t happen again.”

“No, it won’t,” Midou-kun agrees, his voice cool and in control. “When I gave you that package, when you came here tonight, we both accepted a new itinerary. Part of our bargain means that I’m going to teach you some new tricks to replace the ones that aren’t working anymore. So if you still want to test those limits, you’ll empty out every last one of those skewers and put them inside this chest for temporary safekeeping. At least until we’re done here. Then you can have them back. I promise.”

“What about your Jagan? I don’t see you rushing to give up your power when you ask the same of me.”

“Because the Jagan doesn’t activate unless I consciously invoke it.” Midou-kun’s eyes twinkle with devilish intent. “Which I have zero intention of doing. I want to see if I can beat out your fantasy and the only way to do that is to live it in reality. Right, Jackal?”

Akabane stares at the chest and then at his hands, at the scars mottling the surface of his palms. Except for when he’s switching out source materials he’s never voluntarily given up his knives, not even for a measured period of time, and he isn’t about to start now...

“I _can_ control what they do,” he insists, using the anxiety he feels at the thought of being defenseless to infuse his tone with a coldness to match Midou-kun’s.

But the snake won’t relent. “Can you? That would really suck for both of us, Jackal, if when we’re rolling around in bed together enjoying ourselves you accidentally stuck me in some crucial spot with a sharp object...”

It could happen. Nagging doubts about his self-control have dogged him from the moment they met in that alley. Akabane visualizes this and has to admit it would truly be a disappointment. He shoots Midou-kun a skeptical look. “I’ll get them back? All of them?”

“Absolutely.”

The other man’s face betrays no sign of what he’s thinking. For all he knows it could be a lie...or it could be the truth. Cynicism wars with intrigue for several minutes as Akabane weighs his choices. Midou-kun usually gives as good as he gets...

_You’ve never lied to me, Jackal..._

Common sense tells him that a reptilian in hand is far safer than one unfettered. Dare he risk trusting against that deadly bite for him to keep his promise?

“You’ve come this far,” Midou-kun says evenly. “Don’t tell me a professional like you is gonna back out now.”

Akabane hugs his arms to his sides, clenching his fists protectively underneath his arms as if fearing that his knives will be systematically yanked out of his body just like they were the first time he fought Ginji-kun. Though Midou-kun emits no such electromagnetic power, there are other ways of getting around that, he’s sure.

Time drips by as slowly as syrup oozing from a bottle while he considers this proposition. It isn’t as if he’ll be left completely weaponless, he reminds himself – there are other things he can do in case Midou-kun turns vicious fangs on him – but his scalpels are his first and foremost means and he’s come to rely on them so much, so long, that he’s used to thinking of them almost as actual extensions of his body, and sometimes he’s not even sure where he ends and they begin.

He squeezes his eyes tightly shut, having unconsciously lifted a hand partway. His fist is clamped to his chest, his knuckles aching with the strain as the bones crack audibly from the tension in his muscles.

 _Don’t do it,_ his jackal’s nature is warning him.

Akabane takes a long, deep breath...and exhaling carefully to keep it from coming out in shaky, jagged edges, slowly – _slowly_ – extends his hand towards the chest.

He can’t bring himself to look directly at Midou-kun as he does this, dreading what might be lurking in those sapphire depths. Pity would be a mercy compared with something else... Instead when he opens his eyes he focuses on the chest itself, willing his arm to hold steady and not quiver from the inky darkness inside it. He almost stops when his hand is stretched out over the top, fingers spread into partial claws, almost gives in to the impulse, the instincts that are _screaming_ for him to use the blades in a slashing self-defense rather than surrender their protection.

Instead he swallows a painful lump of anxiety that’s stuck in his throat, and releases scalpels in a shower of metallic energy.

They drop to the chest in a hailstorm of musical rattling depending on the majority of their respective source material, which at the moment happens to be titanium, his preferred source when he isn’t using the ceramic. Other scalpels, too, made of materials both foreign and domestic to humankind, emerge in turn, shining brightly in their lethal edges. Akabane reassures his frayed nerves that all he has to do is call for them and they will return in an instant, despite the purported powers of this stronghold. Surely Midou-kun cannot be expecting this old wood to contain the strength and fury of over a hundred scalpels spearing through it all at once.

He dares to glance up at Midou-kun, pulse pounding in his neck, and awaits a response.

Much to his relief there is no censure or encroaching portent of attack in the other’s composed features. “Is that all of them?” the snake-master asks quietly.

Dismayed, Akabane splays his fingers apart once more. A solitary scalpel surfaces from the center of his scarred palm and reluctantly separates itself from his flesh. It lands on top of the pile with what seems like a deafening plink. He looks at it more closely and realizes it’s the original generator, the one he started out with all those years ago. It hasn’t lost any of its luster, gleaming fiercely as the light touches reverently upon its angles. If ever it could be said that Akabane was a nostalgic, it would be this singularly devastating blade that he would consider his favorite of the collection.

He lowers his arm to his side, clutching it with his other hand as he keeps both arms in close to his body. Warily he looks to Midou-kun for approval.

It isn’t long in coming. Blue eyes soften and his smile eases lazily across his face. “Good.”

Muscles sleek with the effort Midou-kun closes and picks up the chest – how much heavier must it be now that it’s full of knives? – and without showing signs of strain carries it out of the bedroom. “I’ll be right back,” he says over his shoulder. “Just going to put this in the other room for a while. I don’t want any distractions. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say.”

Hardly, Akabane thinks to himself. _He_ knows they’re out there, and that’s all that matters. He soothes his restlessness by telling it this is all for the sake of discovering new avenues of interest. Midou-kun is young and strong; he is certain to provide a great deal of pleasure when they join together in mutual mating.

His would-be partner returns and he looks up from his musings. Eager to forget these disturbing reminders and resume their foreplay Akabane wraps himself around Midou-kun once more and tries to kiss him, but hands on his shoulders stay his advances. There is one last surprise in store for him, it seems.

Midou-kun reaches into his pants pocket and brings out a small object – the key he’d hired Jackal to transport. “Remember how I promised you I’d push a few boundaries with you? Well, this is the other part of our deal.”

Akabane regards it with a sudden looming sense of foreboding. “What does it go to?”

Midou-kun doesn’t answer right away. He puts the key back in his pocket and goes over to the nightstand drawer, opening it. A box, a rather colorful one, is brought out and opened. Something clatters as he withdraws it and brings it into Akabane’s full view.

“It goes to these.”

Akabane’s heart feels like it’s just seized and turned to a knot of cold stone in his chest.

It’s a pair of handcuffs. Manacles, to be more precise. The wristbands are thick and look more than adequate at holding a potential prisoner. He knows without being told that these implements too are the bearers of some strange magic that prevents all but the one aware of its secrets from escaping.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing Akabane is shaking his head and backing away. “No.”

“Jackal...”

 _“No,”_ Akabane repeats, unable to hide the loathsome note of fear in his voice. “I never agreed to – to _this.”_

Midou-kun continues to approach him, dangling the manacles from his fingertips like some sort of deranged toy. His expression isn’t menacing but this is of little comfort to Akabane. “Yes, you did, Jackal. From the moment you accepted my proposal you’ve been following my every lead, just as I knew you would. It’s your fate as ordained for you by the infinite casting of Mugenjou.”

“We’re not in Mugenjou anymore. The gods of Babylon hold no sway over this outside world,” Akabane growls, fright galvanizing him into icy anger. He holds up a hand when Midou-kun takes another step towards him. “Come any closer with those things and I’ll cut you.”

Midou-kun stops and folds his arms across his chest, the manacles’ bands crawling over his skin with a sibilant rasp. “With what?”

Akabane flings his hand out, fingers spread wide and palm outstretched. He _calls._

Nothing happens.

Worried, he wills the scalpels to bore through the chest and come to him, fill his body with their fatal force –

\- and nothing but air rushes through his palm.

Sinking realization dawns on Akabane. Midou-kun told him the truth. The scalpels cannot help him now. His stare whirls accusingly on the other man.

“It was still your choice,” Midou-kun says in measured tones. “I didn’t force you to give them up. Just as I won’t force you to wear these.” He tosses the manacles onto the bed and starts walking towards Akabane again. “When you come to me, Jackal, it will be because you choose to, not because I made you, and not because you feel obligated to.”

“What are you doing to me?” Akabane whispers helplessly. “You speak in riddles but give me no clues. How am I to understand the puzzles you throw at me when I cannot even match the pieces?”

Midou-kun reaches out and grasps his shoulders gently, pulling Akabane into his embrace. “You won’t,” he says simply. “Not until you have all the pieces in place will you ever be able to see the whole picture, Jackal. Isn’t that why we retrievers and transporters always complete our jobs to the very end?”

The answer fails to satisfy Akabane. He raises his hands to push the other man away from him, alarmed by the way his treacherous body is responding so readily to Midou-kun’s closeness. “I need – “

“What you need is me.”

 _Damn_ Midou-kun and his infernal kisses!

The master of all snakes wields his seduction the same way he wields his strength: with exacting precision and serious mercilessness. Anger, fear, all swiftly evaporate in the wake of that consuming passion as it overtakes them both. Akabane’s hand fists around a handful of Midou-kun’s tank top; the other hand grasps his back and claws at his spine for purchase while he drives his hips against those of his rival.

Midou-kun, far from becoming annoyed by this urgency, responds by running a trail of kisses all over his jaw, his neck, down his exposed throat as his head leans back in supplication. Amethyst eyes flicker open and he catches a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror.

The reflections rippling across the glass are heedless of anything else but each other, as the brown-haired one finally finishes fumbling with the buttons of his ebony-haired partner’s dress shirt, and large hands roughened by experience though their touch is anything but rough slide the shirt along with its black vest off his shoulders. White and black fabric billows to the floor and that spiky head is dipping, mouth pressing against a bare chest now, lips suckling at the length of scar that stripes his torso in a vertical line, and when they pass by a tongue unfurls and swipes over his nipple. The wet heat coupled with the suddenness of the touch makes the pale-skinned man in the mirror moan and arch against his lover who repeats the caress, adding a tender love bite to the sensitized flesh for good measure.

In that spiraling moment Akabane knows what he will do, and the knowledge sends chills through him. He wants this. He can’t deny it. He longs to lie with Midou-kun as lovers do and give him leave to plunder the secrets of his body, his soul, even as he desires to explore and stroke each sensuous plane of the other’s and stake his own claim. What he _doesn’t_ want is to have to concede so much vulnerability that in the process he becomes a victim to the very thing he both fears and wants...

Midou-kun’s mouth is warming the side of his face, lips teasing his earlobe with a whisper. “Trust me, Akabane. We’ll both enjoy this. I won’t hurt you. I swear on my blood.”

Whether it’s the use of his name instead of the alias, the quiet coaxing behind it, or just the mention of blood that does the trick neither of them will ever know, but regardless, it works. Their eyes meet, holding in the space of a heartbeat...

Body trembling, palms damp and heart drumming a thunderous dance in his chest, Akabane reaches out...and offers his hands to Midou-kun.

The other man silently takes hold of him and guides him back over by the bed. He brings his arms down, around behind his back. Akabane feels cold, smooth metal encircle both wrists then and hears a crisp click as the cuffs are locked. In the silence, the sound seems both ominous and promising. He tests his bonds – the manacles are firmly enclosed around him, with just a very short lead of chain separating them. He is now a captive in every sense.

The full understanding of his situation slams into cold focus and nearly throws him into instant rebellion. Words come to his mind, the eternal question of someone long since relegated to the farthest corners of his memory.

_What is this thing called death?_

It’s staring him right in the eye as Midou-kun comes around to face him again, no mercy, no relief from its demands. Anxiety seizes his chest in a painful, crushing grip and forces a thin whine from his lips. He was foolish to agree to this. What has he done?

Akabane _wants_ his knives back. He needs to feel their razor-sharp edges, the blades soothing in their lethal familiarity. The scalpels will never let him down. The scalpels are always there for him, ready to offer their bloody comfort when he needs it. Even now he can feel their frustration as his own as they claw and clink against the restraints of their prison, that strange box Midou-kun made him put them in before they started in earnest.

He truly has no defenses now. He can’t use his other weapons, the Cross or the Sword, because of the manacles. There’s nowhere to run to safety. He’s helpless. _Weak._ And he is at the mercy of a master predator with the power to take him as surely as a snake chokes down its prey: devoured whole, without remorse.

The prospect terrifies him to – well, death.

“You’re scared of losing control, aren’t you?”

Akabane can’t breathe or speak. The stone in his chest is twisting so viciously he wonders if he’s having a heart attack.

Midou-kun comes closer, the light in his blue eyes unchanging, motionless as a reptile’s steady gaze. “Is that why you really fight? To be strong so you’ll never hurt.” That blue is close, so close, too close, and Akabane’s trembling harder now, shaking so badly he can’t stop even if he wants to. “What hurt you?”

This time he can’t stop the sob that bursts from his lips. Shame floods his whole body at this wretched weakness and he looks away from Midou-kun’s unrelenting stare, unable to bear the weight of these truths any more. His head is spinning, aching under the assault of memories, many of them, too many and too furious for him to sort out with any level of coherence. A black flashfire of rage boils up inside him as images of a life long discarded flicker into sight, and he longs to lash out in defense against the feelings, the emotions surfacing but he can’t, not chained like this and not without his scalpels, not trapped in this cage that Midou-kun has built for him, for them. He bares his teeth in wild desperation at the other man, composure well past the breaking point; the only thing that matters now is freedom, safety from this hell of feelings and thoughts and mortal emotions –

\- but Midou-kun is reaching up to touch his face, pull him carefully into his embrace and hold him tightly, and he’s being gentle with him, so gentle, and so kind and this hurts far more than any blade ever could because it’s so tender and caring and _genuine,_ and Akabane doesn’t understand it at all but it’s been so long, so terribly long since anybody behaved this way towards him, only Ginji-kun, dear sweet precious Ginji-kun with his childlike innocence and soft heart ever came close to it even though he always ran from Akabane in utter fear, which is what he has learned to content himself with because that is all _he_ has ever known and all he has ever expected from his lot.

Midou-kun rocks him slowly, soothing him as one might a frightened child by rubbing a strong hand over his bare back, warming his skin and banishing the tremors that are causing his body to quake with repulsive fragility. He brushes his lips next to Akabane’s ear and speaks in a near-whisper. “Sometimes, Jackal...weakness is the greatest strength there is.”

That makes absolutely no sense to Akabane and he says so.

“Yeah, I know you don’t get it right now. Maybe someday you might, though. For now, just know this: when you fall, you won’t go alone. I’m here to catch you. You have my word on that. Remember? I have to protect what's important. Including you.”

Fingers start carding through his hair, gathering the heavy mane up and lifting it away from his face and neck. Akabane casts him a bewildered look and he explains. “Can’t see you if you’re hiding under all this, you know.”

From somewhere Midou-kun produces a red elastic band that he uses to twist and tie his hair up in a loose bun, lightly snapping the band in place to be certain it’s snug. “If we do this, Jackal, we do it right. That means we’re honest with each other. No hiding behind anything – hats, hair, whatever. I want to see _you_ while we’re together. You have the most fascinating eyes, you know that? Way more intriguing than mine, evil eye or none. And I do like that crazy mane of yours. It's better than the threadspool's as far as I’m concerned.”

Akabane makes a disgruntled noise in his throat at the comparison with the Fuuchouin heir. Not that he has anything against Kazuki-san – someone who goes by the title of Battle Prince must have more to offer than meets the eye – but he’s eavesdropped enough around Ginji-kun and company to have picked up on the inside jokes regarding the weaver. He’s aware of the potential for misunderstandings concerning his own physical appearance, but Midou-kun doesn’t really think him to be that exaggerated...does he?

“Sorry. Guess I should’ve used a better description, eh?” Midou-kun smiles at him and nuzzles his nose. “You’re fun when you’re pissed though, Jackal.”

In the midst of all this excitement Akabane finds his voice returning to him. “Do you even know how to pay someone a proper compliment?” he asks, somewhat indignantly.

“Probably not. You’ll just have to teach me better manners as we go along. Fair warning, though – I’m liable to drive you nuts before I actually take any of your advice to heart.” Midou-kun grins unrepentantly and that rogue expression makes Akabane want to kiss him again.

Midou-kun tugs at a strand of black hair trickling over Akabane's forehead. “I was serious when I said that I wanted to see you, Jackal. You're the most bewitching angel that I've ever seen, one I couldn't stay away from no matter how hard I tried. You might have heard slick words from a few folks – if they did ever get to see bits of the real you underneath the shadows, that is - but did they ever mean it as something more than just an easy compliment or a means to an end?”

No hat, no knives, and now no curtain of hair. Akabane is more exposed than he’s ever felt before and he doesn’t like it one bit. Midou-kun's words, however, have stirred an unfathomable heat in his insides, one that isn't entirely due to physical arousal. He can’t suppress another shiver, tilting his head to one side. The few tendrils of hair that have escaped capture trail teasingly along his nape and forehead, some so long they dangle alongside his neck and create a ticklish sensation. He’s worn his hair loose in its customary shaggy style for as long as he can remember and to be suddenly deprived of its mantle is unnerving.

Midou-kun spreads feather-light kisses over Akabane’s eyelids and mouth while he works at undoing the belt and buttons of his trousers. “Still want to search out your potential with me?”

The exhalation is a stream of shared desire when he feels a hand dipping past the waistband of his trousers, a smooth palm gliding down his abdomen. _“Yes.”_

Akabane's voice morphs into a ragged moan when Midou-kun’s fingers delve through the thatch of softness at the base of his belly and curl around his stiffened sex. No longer caring what he must look like or what demons he might face he thrusts into that grip, body quivering with a new sort of pleasure that’s swallowed him alive in its torrents.

Midou-kun chuckles huskily. “No need to rush this. We’ve got all night.”

All night...all night... The words dimly reverberate inside Akabane’s head, but all he can think of is how good that thumb feels rubbing across the tip of his arousal as Midou-kun slowly strokes him. He pants into their kiss as he shamelessly presses his hips to his lover’s in a silent demand: _take me, claim me as yours, pleasure me divinely and I shall gladly do the same for you._

The hand rudely refuses to oblige him by unfolding and withdrawing from his trousers. Akabane makes an upset noise.

“It _has_ been a long time for you, hasn’t it?” Midou-kun says with some amazement as he helps him sit on the edge of the bed. “I haven’t even wound up to the good stuff yet and you’re ready to blast off like a firecracker.” He’s piling the pillows up into a stack, which he helps Akabane lean back onto, making sure that too much pressure isn’t put on his bound arms. He gets one of the smaller pillows from the chair and slides that underneath his head as a finishing touch. “Okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He makes short work of Akabane’s boots and socks, pulling those off and flinging them carelessly aside as they land haphazardly on the floor. “Lift your hips for me.”

He obeys and Midou-kun grabs the waistband of his trousers, along with his underwear, and drags both garments down the lower half of his body, peeling them off with a flourish. The air is initially cool against his skin and he squirms against the bed, interest stirred by the sensation of the bedspread against his bare flesh. He’s been stripped naked in more ways than one and the thought of Midou-kun having such intimate knowledge of him is powerfully erotic.

Desire wins out over fear this time. Almost as if in a dreamlike trance he settles against the pillows, head back, throat bared. His body arches slightly as he parts his legs, one raised into a lithe slope at the knee, a clear invitation as he watches the other man with hooded violet eyes.

Midou-kun’s eyes have darkened to a storm cloud’s blue. “God, Jackal...” he breathes. “You have no idea how damned hot you look right now.”

He starts ripping his own clothes off, not quite in a frenzy but he’s clearly caught up in the whirlwind of their excitement. Akabane watches him intently, gaze tracing the shadows and light reflecting off of Midou-kun’s lightly tanned muscles as they stretch and bunch with each movement he makes. Beautiful, so very like the silken grace of his animal namesake. He licks his lips in unconscious anticipation at the realization that very soon that powerful body will be beside him, on top of him, inside him. They’ll move together in an ageless dance as they search for those perfect heights, and it will be good, very, very good.

Triggered by those thoughts he feels himself harden more and he utters a whimper of want. It’s been so long – too long – since he’s done anything like this..! Finally Midou-kun’s skin is as bare as his own and the other man is looming over him, dipping in for a kiss as he crawls onto the bed. He places one of his hands on Akabane’s chest, and he can feel the invigorating heat radiating from the center of his palm.

As Midou-kun pulls away briefly for air he asks, “Let me see you?”

Midou-kun’s gaze is steady. He nods, and helps Akabane sit up before settling back on his knees, hands resting on the tops of his thighs. Like a snake coiling its body not for a strike but drawing itself into casual watch. He’s beautiful. There’s no other word for it. The light from the lamp casts its flattering glow on everything, but on Midou-kun the highlight is everywhere, glistening along his sleek form, toned muscle, flickering in his cool blue eyes, no glasses now to get in the way of that crystal perfection's own pure light.

Akabane’s eyes are drawn to a mark on his right side, near the point where his shoulder and chest meet. A two-inch long slit mars the skin in a shading of scar tissue. Now Akabane remembers – that’s where he stabbed Midou-kun when he and Ginji-kun were fighting once.

The other chuckles knowingly. “Believe me, it was the last thing I wanted to do.” He shrugs. “But, desperate times and desperate measures and all that shit...”

Akabane longs to touch the scar, trace its thin line with reverent fingertips. Truly, they are more alike than either of them realized. They have shed blood, theirs and others, in search of the desires and answers they seek, but perhaps now, fittingly, it is with each other that they will finally grasp their shared glory. He settles for leaning forward, carefully, so he doesn’t overbalance and flop flat on his face, and presses his lips there gently at first, then more firmly, as he kisses Midou-kun’s scar. The skin is warm and smooth, and he runs the tip of his tongue along the edge of the mark, little nips of teeth trickling across it.

Midou-kun grunts and exhales a slow heavy breath. He seems to like this. Emboldened by the response, Akabane continues up to his collarbone, scraping the skin over the bone lightly with his teeth, then soothing the roughness with wet kisses. Midou-kun smells like hot musk, a heady scent that tickles his nose and makes him hungry for more of this man. He bites and sucks a path up along his lover’s neck with increasing urgency.

Midou-kun twists away and when Akabane begins to protest he lays a finger against his lips. “You’ll get your turn, Jackal,” he assures him. “But right now it’s mine.” And he tilts Akabane back onto the pillows and covers his mouth with his own.

Hands splay across his chest, slide down his breastbone over his ribcage, palms hot against the softer skin of his slightly concave abdomen before they deviate from their southward path. His erection twitches and he whimpers softly in his throat as Midou-kun’s hands continue to stroke along his hips, tracing each flank before smoothing down sleek thighs, never once venturing near their apex – where he most wants them to go.

A dark chuckle interrupts their heated kiss. “Oh, no, Jackal. You don’t get to get off that easily.”

And then Midou-kun’s mouth is taking the same trail his hands passed over, making Akabane writhe and gasp as lips and teeth and tongue inscribe their marks on his flesh. No one has ever touched him like this in ages. As if they expected to. As if they had a right to.

As if they trusted him with all they had to offer...and with what he would choose to offer in return.

Others might say that sex is as imperative a need as breath itself. And within a certain context, they would have a point. But to anyone who takes it seriously, the act of physical union when treated callously or carelessly seems so trite in comparison with the type of entertainment Akabane prefers. On the occasions he feels such urges, it is simply a matter of attending to his own satisfaction – he enjoys games but has no patience or interest for most of the ones people engage in as a prelude to intimate relations. A true coupling is more than just the joining of bodies, the interlocking of flesh and exchange of essences: it is a covenant bound by two spirits seeking the unique truth of their existences, the recovery of an unconscious reality eternally held in their hearts as shared pleasure transports them into the ultimate power they have both long sought, but could never truly enjoy without doing so together.

For until this moment, this one minute, neither serpent nor jackal could ever have named that face which they thought might contain such power – at least, not correctly. Names themselves are power...and the most powerful ones often live and breathe and bleed in plain sight.

\--


	4. The Serpent and the Jackal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intimate combat of a different kind as kisses lead to so much more than either Ban or Akabane ever expected.

Midou-kun is searching out those places that make him twitch, make him moan. Teeth chew the skin above his hipbone and Akabane shudders; hot breath teases the inside of his upper thigh and he bucks upward, hoping that his lover will take the hint already. Midou-kun, however, is apparently something of a sadist, and continues to ravish his bound captive in glorious arrogance.

Blue eyes look up briefly from where he’s busy delving his tongue into Akabane’s navel. “Enjoying yourself so far?” Midou-kun murmurs.

“Yes.”

“Good. ‘Cause I’m gonna push you just a little more, now.”

Midou-kun helps him sit up, and, after some rearranging of the pillows, turns Akabane over so that he’s on his knees and partially lying on top of them, his upper body weight supported by cushioning. Akabane rests his forehead on one of the pillows and closes his eyes momentarily, a new memory having suddenly surfaced to tease him with its flickers of a vision from a time he knows only too well, yet can barely remember...

_What is your truth, Kuroudo? Shall we seek this little death together, then?_

In the little death, sometimes there was larger life...

Warm hands gently touch the backs of his thighs and coax them further apart. Akabane squirms against the pillows, feeling his face flush with heat from the compromising position he’s in. Experimentally, he tugs at his bonds and finds them just as unyielding as before. He shudders.

“Easy.” Those hands, powerful hands, gentle hands, rest upon his shoulders and rub his back. They stroke him from chest to abdomen to flank and thigh, and back again. “We’ll take it nice and slow. I want you to enjoy this better than you do fighting.”

How is that even possible, Akabane wants to ask, but before he can speak the words he feels Midou-kun’s warmth pressing lightly along the length of his form. The other man’s presence is oddly comforting, even as it reminds him at the same time that he’s completely at his mercy. But he can’t sense any malicious intent, couldn’t grasp any inkling of it even when they fought in Mugenjou and struggled in the alley, and Akabane’s hunter’s instincts are spot-on.

Midou-kun is seducing him, and he can’t help falling for this serpentine dream.

Fingers caress the bone of his jaw, trace the sides of his throat, as thumbs lightly pad along the back of his neck in a slow massage. Midou-kun’s voice breathes husky promise against his ear, and Akabane feels another wonderful twinge of arousal as those lips touch the fleshy part of the lobe and nibble it for a moment. “Does this feel nice?”

A wordless purr better suited to a kitten than a Jackal assures him that it does. The hands move from his neck to his shoulders. Akabane waits for them to take the path of his scars, certain that Midou-kun will find them irresistible curiosities to study. But though those lean fingers pass over the ridges of knotted tissue and delve along the smoother trails amidst them, they do not pause to linger. They simply touch, take in all of Akabane’s skin, accepting of both marked and unmarked and content to draw enjoyment from the mere act of physical contact.

An unexpected well of something within brings a smattering of dampness to Akabane’s eyes, and he quickly blinks it away, suddenly angry with himself for allowing it to surface. Emotions, feelings, these are dangerous if left unchecked. Hasn’t he worked so hard to rid himself of such weakness?

 _You fight so that you’ll never hurt again._ Yet pain is a reality, a constant that has been the closest companion he has ever known, and Akabane has learned to accept and even derive a kind of delight from it.

But at what price?

Midou-kun seems to sense his inner dilemma, for the hands rubbing circles into his muscles briefly still. Then warmth envelops Akabane completely as the other man embraces him, wraps his arms around Akabane’s chest and fits his torso, legs, against pale skin.

They kneel like this, listening to each other’s breaths, feeling each other’s heartbeat, immersing themselves in the strange world of the other for just one minute. Liquid heat stings Akabane’s eyes once more and he closes them this time, not trusting his control to keep the tears at bay. It's as if he is for the first time learning what it means to be...valued, and care in turn, for something other than battle prowess or the blank void of the grave. He doesn't know what to do with these overwhelming feelings; his first instinct is to attack them, but they resist his attempts at binding them and easily defeat his denial. Being human is a daunting prospect indeed and Akabane wonders with sincere fright if he has taken on the one truly impossible challenge of his life. What does not kill, does it make stronger...?

Midou-kun notices the turmoil he's struggling to reconcile. His lover’s mouth spreads warm moisture along his cheek in a trail of exhalation. “Are you scared, Akabane?”

The question is posed without mockery or cruelty in its nuances, but even if it had contained those Akabane wonders if he would have answered it truthfully anyway. “Terrified,” the whispered reply slips from his lips before he can think to silence the thumping of his own heartbeat from giving him away.

“Good.” A pause, and then, “It means you're starting to be alive again. That's what you want...isn't it?”

“I – I suppose...” Trapped in confusion, needing to do something, Akabane starts to struggle a little before Midou-kun holds him closer and strokes his skin some more to settle him.

“First cut's always the hardest, huh? Fear is just the first step, Jackal. You and me, one at a time. Together, and we'll eventually see what we want the more we wake to the dream of being.”

He kisses Akabane's face, licking away the few tears that have begun to slide unbidden from bright lavender eyes trapped in the mist of this spell, the imagination of what it must be like to be alive in a way never before thought possible. “You were alive once, I know you were,” Midou-kun murmurs. “You can come back out of the darkness and be human again. I know you can. Because I've done it, and if I can do it, so can you, Kuroudo Akabane...”

“What...what if...I don't want to?” _What does being human mean, anyway?_ “What if...I've forgotten...it's been so long... I don't know _how...”_ More tears drip as Akabane's voice cracks on that last word.

“It's not as hard as you'd think.” Midou-kun's hand covers Akabane's chest, over his heart, and presses his palm there, feeling the throb of life, of will. “If will is what keeps the world going, then I'm passing on what I've learned to you. That's how the cycle works. It's not enough for you anymore, is it, Jackal? To just kill or be killed. You've already seen the worst there. Now you want to know if it's possible to see the _best_ of what you could be. You need to know whether you've got a place of your own in this world that's worth fighting for...don't you?”

Akabane is crying in earnest now, rivers streaking his face even though he makes no sound. He can only nod in response to the question. To have importance to someone beyond just that of a trained professional, or a hired means to an end...to know his existence counts for _something_ worthwhile...that all of his pain and powerlessness has not been in vain. Enjoyment is all well and good, but even pleasure can dissolve into apathy after enough time...and apathy is perhaps the coldest bloodcurdling cut of all, for it is but the first step into the shadow of true death. When that line is crossed...!

“Please,” he sobs quietly, not knowing whether he is heard, not even knowing what it is that he's asking, begging for. “Please...M-Midou...Ban-kun...” _Help me...I cannot face my destiny alone, I am too weak, afraid...unlike you..._

Midou-kun bends closer and wraps his arms tighter around him, whispers into Akabane's ear. “It's okay. I'm here in the crossroads with you. I want you to be alive too. Because that's the way you make me feel when it's just you and me and we don't have anything to be afraid of, not even each other. We don't have to hold back any more. We already know what death is. It's time you and I learned what it's like to enjoy life. What do you say to that, Akabane?”

Akabane makes a soft keening in his throat, a profound ache in some secret part of him, deeply touched by this raw admission from one his true equal. “Always for you...only for you...”

In spite of this revelation of willing vulnerability, he still flinches when Midou-kun's hands move suddenly, his body instinctively reacting to the misinterpretation of inherent violence, and for once he's grateful for the restraints placed upon him, else his lover would at best be sporting a nasty bruise.

Midou-kun seems to realize his mistake, and he offers silent apology by way of more slow caresses, which Akabane permits to tame the Jackal within. The flood of tears stems itself in short order, and he discovers that when he lets it, the warmth of a foreign humanity he once derided as part of the Get Backers' mercy is quick to offer solace, an unusual balm that he has only begun to learn the mysterious pleasures of. Akabane feels a strange new wonder at this.

“It will take you a while to get used to it,” Midou-kun says, and he brings a hand up to stroke Akabane’s face and shoulders, lavishing attention on tender areas that make the latter warm to him with purred delight. When it is done with the right person, touching and being touched can become a uniquely fulfilling spiritual experience. “This is new for me too, don’t forget. We'll both be learning what we never had before.”

Purple eyes reopen in surprise and Akabane twists his head around to gaze curiously at him. “You’ve never had intimate relations with anyone? Ever?”

The other man’s posture goes rigid. Midou-kun growls, an edge of what might be accurately named embarrassment coloring his tone. “I meant that I’m not used to letting anybody inside my armor either! I had to learn it from Ginji. I hate getting hurt just as much as you do, Jackal.”

“Oh.” Akabane hesitates, then adds softly, “I'm sorry. I did not mean to slight you so. Only you're right, it has been a long time for me since...an engagement like this.”

Midou-kun is mollified by the repentance. “It's okay.” Something sparks in his eyes, and he grins suddenly. “Saving yourself just for me, were you?”

Akabane offers a small, coy smile. “My tastes are simple. I prefer the best, and you do like to speak of your one-hundred-percent success rate...”

Blue crinkles and fangs flash with full pride as Midou-kun basks in the adulation. “Gotta hand it to you, Jackal. You definitely know how to mark a guy even without your sharpies.”

He leans closer and nuzzles Akabane, who happily nuzzles him back, as the two of them share a quiet chuckle and enjoy their moment of unorthodox closeness. Then Midou-kun grows serious again.

“I have only two rules when you’re with me. No killing, and be honest. The rest we’ll just make up as we go.” And with that, Midou-kun is on the move again, lips and fingers painting a portrait of sincere appreciation across Akabane’s skin.

He is content to relax more against the pillows, with nothing to do now but submit, and enjoy…until he feels those hands venturing to southern territory. Akabane automatically tenses and the manacles clink roughly, a rude reminder that instinctual responses will do him no good. He bites his lip, preparing himself for whatever is to come –

\- warm lips ghost over his lower back, tracing the indentation of his tailbone, and slide lower, lower, as fingers and palms cup and squeeze each cheek, and Akabane’s eyes widen as he realizes what it is Midou-kun is going to do –

\- a finger, slick and warm, wanders into the furrow and strokes teasingly along the path, not attempting to breach the flesh, just lazily caressing it. The sensations engendered by this action are exquisitely pleasant, and he shivers with a peculiar delight when Midou-kun’s fingertip lightly drags along a smooth strip of skin and nudges the firmness beneath.

He really wishes Midou-kun would not tease him so. It’s becoming a very vexing habit...!

The fingertip draws casual figure-eight patterns along his flesh, dipping lower to circle the robust globes several times before traveling back into the valley of his body. He wriggles, the fire-sparks of pleasure engendered by the touches kindling into heightened arousal, and his hips impulsively thrust against the pillows, his erection seeking its share of attention.

Midou-kun is amused – though he does not laugh, Akabane can feel the ghost of it tickling his back, while hands rest full on his hips, slowly but firmly pulling him off the pillows. He is curious when the hands, and then the arms, wrap around him and guide him backwards; he finds himself looking up at Midou-kun as he's tilted onto his back this time, more pillows placed under his head and shoulders for support. He's ready to loose a strangled growl at being denied release, but it turns to a moan when Midou-kun's mouth descends squarely onto his.

The kiss doesn't last long, much to Akabane's disappointment, but then the other man's lips are traveling, nipping playfully, at the rest of his face. Midou-kun delights and surprises him with a sudden mock-bite, clasping his teeth over Akabane's throat, on the Adam's apple, an imitation of going for the jugular. Suddenly Akabane understands the joke, and the strangeness of laughter bubbles up from his own mouth, a kind of wild joy, the relief of finally being understood rather than misunderstood.

Midou-kun grins at him as he lets up, and he lowers his neck within striking range, and Akabane gleefully takes up the offered challenge: He rises and nips hard at the other's neck, harder than he'd intended, perhaps, but nowhere near to drawing actual blood. Midou-kun grunts and hisses, but he lets Akabane keep the hold, and when it is broken by mutual accord he retaliates in like fashion, this time with Akabane's blessing as the latter throws his head back, throat bared willingly. His groan is long and loud as Midou-kun hisses appreciation, digging his teeth roughly into a sensitive spot along the cords of his neck and sucking hard on the skin. Snakebitten, indeed.

How can something so simple feel so incredible? For the first time ever Akabane realizes that luxuriating in his own helplessness isn't such a bad thing after all. Not when it is done here, with Midou-kun, a man with whom he has come to a fragile trust. He wonders if this is what the other man felt when he walked into Mugenjou to die and instead walked back out with the Light of all life.

Midou-kun senses his musings. He stops his exploration of Akabane's neck and rises to look at him. “Close,” he says, his voice low. “What you and I have...it's complicated, too. Not worse. Not better. It's the same, and yet different, and just as captivating.” He kisses Akabane's lips. “You don't need to compete on that field. I've told you – you're both important to me. Otherwise I might have to get antsy about all the time you spend with Himiko, huh?”

Akabane blinks owlishly at him. “Midou-kun! I like Himiko-san very much, yes, but we just work together, we haven't - “

“There you are.” Midou-kun smiles and puts a finger to his lips, making any further words evaporate. “That's how it is with me and Ginji. Some best friends make the best lovers...and some make the best _friends._ The power of the bond is still there, it's just in another form.”

Akabane makes a mew of warmth, delighted further still by this admission. Then a worrisome thought occurs to him. It's uncomfortable to dwell on, but it would be improper if he didn't at least broach the topic. “And Ginji-kun? What does he have to say of this...our...arrangement?”

Midou-kun shrugs. “Well, after he got over the initial spaztastercise fit, he was fine. You know he wants to protect me as much as I look out for him. You, too.”

“Ginji-kun wants to...protect...me?”

Midou-kun nods.

Puzzled, Akabane lets the pleasant feelings of arousal slip momentarily while he tries to sort this one out. “Why?”

“Why do you think?” Midou-kun looks annoyed. “You know how he is. Has to see the best in everybody. If he could see something in me that was worth keeping around, he obviously thinks there's more to you than your quills. And since I take my cues from him...”

Before Akabane can reply to that he feels hands slithering around him, over him, and he gives a sharp intake of breath. Midou-kun's fingers are tickling the underside of his sex, thumb rubbing over the sensitive tip, while the other hand wraps firmly around the base of his erection to keep him from climaxing too soon. The pleasure, mixed with the restraint, is downright maddening. His moans now are loud enough to startle even him, and he starts to bite his lip to keep from uttering these unfamiliar noises, but Midou-kun shakes his head.

“No more hiding, Jackal. I want you – _all_ of you. The good and the bad. Everything that makes you who you are is what makes you whole, and human. That's how we serpents devour our prey – whole, right down to the last drop of blood.”

Something else, this time slick with lubricant, rubs against that portal of his body where previously those fingers had only dared tread. Now they press forward, gently but firmly demanding entry. Midou-kun’s eyes are as electric as Ginji-kun’s charges. “Belonging can be pleasure too,” he rasps. “This is one match where we can both win. Ready?”

He doesn't wait for Akabane to reply. He slides his fingers forward. Akabane concentrates on breathing to distract the Other aspect of himself from this invasion, and perhaps this minor detachment might be somewhat displeasing to Midou-kun, but it is the only way he knows to allow himself this surrender. He doesn't have to wait long, fortunately, before detachment gives way to something much better:

Pleasure.

Wonderful, glorious, sweet aching enjoyment.

Midou-kun's fingers are slow, careful, and relentless. They press onward until they nudge their target, and Akabane suddenly sees stars. It's then that he's aware the loud gasp he hears is his own, and he doesn't have time to throttle the air back before those fingers wiggle against that same spot again and the colors behind his tightly-clenched eyelids intensify to a multicolored hue.

He opens his eyes wide, turns his head to one side and sees on a nearby pillow the tube of lubricant that Midou-kun pulled from seemingly nowhere. He focuses on it as a means of further distraction, trying to quell the seesawing emotions battling behind his submission, and he feels fingers grasping and holding his jaw firmly as a hand turns his face back. Blue eyes are waiting, calm, unyielding.

“Look at me.”

The fingers inside him move again. Akabane can't stop the little cry that escapes his lips. It's such an alien sound, soft, high-pitched like a pup's whimper, and it's carved from pure ecstasy. What Midou-kun is doing to him...he wants this, but he doesn't know how to ask for it... He doesn't know how to grant that permission without rousing a certain instinct, and yet...something equally as incomprehensible, elemental, is calling to him, something that he so desperately needs that he hasn't realized how much he needs it, until now...

Midou-kun is almost directly on top of him now, his body pressing against Akabane's, the fingers of one hand exploring, the other hand reaching up, fingers caressing his forehead, combing through loose strands of hair. When he speaks it is in a low whisper. “You get tired too, don't you? Tired of having to fight all the time...”

Somehow Akabane understands that it is not the ennui of repetitive battle itself that Midou-kun is referring to. It's the endless cycle of destruction with no apparent end, the frustrating retreat, regroup, recharge, always surviving to fight the same internal wars day after day. Never making any headway for whatever dreams he might attempt to kindle, always searching out battlefield after battlefield, in the slowly but surely dwindling hope that he will eventually find something of true substance that might at last be able to break that vicious merry-go-round and grant him the freedom which he so desperately desires above all else...even bloodletting.

Living with oneself is perhaps the hardest arrangement there may be. Maybe, it is true...Midou-kun _is_ what he needs...!

The other man can read the answer in the glittering jewels of his eyes. Midou-kun's face shifts almost imperceptibly, becomes solemn and warm. He lies fully atop Akabane and brings both hands up now to hold him as he kisses him again.

“Want me to help you let go, Akabane?”

He's grown addicted to those kisses. Akabane feels like he's been shot full of narcotic, veins heavy with pressure that's tantalizing, something that's sensitized every inch of his skin and being to an otherworldly awareness. He lifts his head and steals another nip at his lover's bottom lip before lying back to look at him, the words sticking painfully in his throat, so he simply nods.

Midou-kun doesn't say anything, or show any reaction. Only those fathomless blue eyes, as inscrutable as the heavens themselves flicker in acknowledgment. He reaches out with a hand again and Akabane hears a snap, and then soft waves of thick black are tumbling onto the pillow.

Before he can think to express surprise at this sudden unbinding of his hair Akabane sees Midou-kun moving away from him, turning his head and coughing as if caught at a loss for something. The thought of being deprived, however briefly, of his lover's heat and presence sends a sliver of anxiety into his heart, but it quickly melts as he is then pulled and lifted closer. Akabane finds himself sitting on Midou-kun's lap, looking down at the other man as he's held in a snug embrace. He can feel his lover's erection throbbing underneath him, and his own experiences an answering tug of demand that pools full, heavy in his groin as it rubs against Midou-kun's abdomen.

Midou-kun slides his arms around Akabane, hands rubbing along his own forearms, cupping and squeezing his scarred hands. “No Jagan this time,” he says, his voice husky. “Promise.”

There's a hushed click and suddenly, Akabane feels the enchanted weights shackling him fall away to the bed in a muffled clatter.

“There. Now you're free to do as you please...aren't you?”

Akabane is too bewildered and overwhelmed by this sudden freedom to consider falling back into old instinct. He sits still for a few moments, raising his hands before him and gazing at them as though they contained the answers to all his questions. “Why?” is all he can think to say at length as he looks to Midou-kun.

“Why not?” Blue hints at mischief. “We both like to live dangerously – here's our chance. Wild things are meant to live unfettered. Some of us just can't thrive in a cage.” Midou-kun doesn't smile and the tension hangs on a wire's balance between them. But the invitation beckons, and Akabane pauses to confront his options with a shocking understanding as Midou-kun's words echo in his ear.

_When I come to you...it is not because you compelled me, and not because I feel any sense of obligation from honor or duty..._

_I come to you because...I choose to._

_I am free to do as I please. It pleases me to grant to you, my dream-master, my bewitching serpentine King, what I would offer no other..._

_...myself, whole as I am, broken as I am, everything I have to give and everything I would take._

_I do so in the trust that you will be the one to wield me true at last, my blade promised for your blood, death finally bowing to life, as it ought._

Throughout this silent deliberation Midou-kun has said nothing as he awaits the Jackal's decision. Slowly, hesitantly, Akabane feels the chains of a different kind of imprisonment crumbling and breaking away as a strange lightness fills and spreads within his chest. It makes him nearly dizzy with its implications. _This_ is what he wants. _This_ is what he has been seeking all the empty days of his existence. It's not enough anymore, to just survive through useless time until the next horizon's war.

He wants to live, to fly free as creation intended...and to do so with Midou Ban, his equal above all.

Akabane makes a noise that's part sob and part hiccuping relief as he winds his arms tightly about the other man. He buries his face in Midou-kun's hair, inhales the scent and heat there as deep as he can, as if to ingest a tangible bit of the same incredible life force that emanates within, something he can transform into a part of himself as well. And Midou-kun, to his excitement, shares in their embrace, squeezing Akabane so hard that it's a wonder they don't meld into a single form. There are no more weapons now – not words, not blades, not fangs. There is just this one minute, a glimpse of eternity in a heavenly speck, and oh what a marvelous minute it is.

They trade a series of lusty kisses, unabashed in their mutual passion, and then Akabane raises his head and gazes directly into Midou-kun's eyes.

“Make love to me. Make me live again, with you.”

A singular taste isn't enough to quench their desires. They are hunters and hunters need a feast, as befitting their pride and power. And feast they do, as lips and teeth and tongues and hands and skin and sex come together in frantic, torrid release more than once.

Akabane gets the revenge promised to him by Midou-kun: smiling devilish glee, his head dips towards Midou-kun's lower body, and it isn't long before the retriever learns why Akabane believes wholeheartedly in good manners; specifically, the edict that dictates one must not speak (though humming is permissible) when one's mouth is full. Midou-kun doesn't know who to thank for instilling such magnificent deportment, so he praises both the gods and Jackal in alternating and equally vigorous groans.

Later, Midou-kun takes control and turns Akabane over, guiding him onto his back first to show him what else a snake's tongue is capable of when applied to nether regions. A few minutes of this is all it takes for the Jackal to gladly yelp for mercy, and although none is granted, for once Akabane doesn't mind in the least. He’s exhausted, he thinks, and surely Midou-kun is nearing his own limits, with the sweat pouring down his chest and streaking his face, brown hair falling flatter than its usual spikes because of the perspiration and the acrobatics of before. Akabane's own skin is dappled with shiny beads, hair a dark cloud hopelessly tangled and sticky against his neck and face. His muscles are limp like rope stretched well past its tethers, and his entire body is flooded with that delicious ache of heat that only comes from labor well met; if he still had his scalpels, doubtless they would have all turned to a steaming puddle of molten material by now. They can’t possibly do this again after they've spent themselves so lavishly twice earlier...

Midou-kun lies against him, nipping and sucking at his skin, and hands return with a vengeance, playfully stroking between his legs while a finger from the other slithers into hidden valleys and coils around its sweet spot and oh yes, Akabane is ready to do it again, and he moans as Midou-kun withdraws that wicked finger and thrusts home, and he eagerly impales himself on that honeyed poison dagger. Midou-kun tilts his hips higher and moves harder, faster, his hand matching the pace, and Akabane's hands fist in and claw the sheets as nonsensical syllables stream past his lips. He has no idea what he’s saying and he doesn’t care, perhaps it’s appreciation for what he’s receiving or maybe it’s a request for more of the same oh please yes yes more more more don’t stop but either way it fuels Midou-kun’s own lust and he chants similar bursts, interspersed with a few healthy obscenities that Akabane finds himself repeating, and they ride over and over, through the erotic surge in ways neither of them had imagined themselves capable of.

Never has any pleasure been this intense in such a long time.

They come together this time, a fierce growl and a faint gasp of choked breath mingling in the otherwise silent room. A rest, time to recover, and then by mutual accord they’re reaching for each other again and sapphire blankets violet, just like it did in Akabane's dreams. So exquisite, this unique competition to test each other’s capabilities in the most unexpected of areas – he doesn’t know where his desire ends and the other’s begins, he doesn’t even know himself anymore, he belongs to Midou-kun and never ever has surrender or weakness felt so incredibly, wonderfully _right_ before.

The scream when it comes is piercing in its intensity. It isn’t the volume that shatters all the illusions, it’s the sheer _emotion_ contained within that crashes over them both in battering waves, thick and heavy from years of pent-up repression. Its notes resound from heaven to hell and back to heaven again with a prayer and a curse and a plea and defiance and sorrow and joy and hate and love and everything Akabane has ever experienced all pouring out in one great torrential rush of explosive climax.

And when it is finally over, as the last echoes fade into reverent silence, Midou-kun is there to catch him, hold him...protect him...just as he promised he would.

So.

This is...

...this is what it means...

...this is feeling – being - ?

Midou-kun lifts him up and turns him towards the mirror opposite their bed. His lips graze a pale shoulder – the one unscathed - as he growls, “I'm done for. Did I give you what you wanted to see yet?”

Akabane looks in the mirror and is stunned by what he sees:

a stranger with bright, violet eyes glittering through a wild curtain of damp raven hair, slightly parted lips moist and swollen from Midou-kun’s kisses, a lopsided silly upturn stretching the ends of his mouth. There's a fine sheen of sweat misting his pale skin which is still flushed with passion’s rosy exertion. He’s panting softly, sharp breaths, still coasting down from that postcoitial high. He looks thoroughly disheveled, wanton, and...

Happy.

Really, honestly, happy. The kind of happiness no one would ever mistake for dark mayhem.

No, not just happy; enraptured, joyful, as if he's finally found salvation from the endless night's journey to his rightful home, which is no grave-site at all, but a wonderfully warm and spellbinding, welcoming haven that calls him into his real power, that which is truly -

_Alive._

He can’t remember when he last saw this man – if ever.

Midou-kun’s lips ghost over his face, his cheekbones. They nibble sweetly at his own lips before pulling away and Akabane looks up to find himself melting in a pool of deep blue. He could drink forever from that pool; how its light warms and fulfills him.

“Next time you think you can’t feel anything or be alive unless you’re fighting hip-deep in blood...I want you to remember this, remember us,” Midou-kun says, his voice a hypnotic rasp. “I remember what you said to me in Mugenjou. Well, I’ve always wanted to see you abandon yourself to _your_ instincts, and you didn't disappoint. You keep all that power stored away in there alongside those knives? It’s a shame you seem in such a hurry to end it...you should let it loose more often. More fun that way, huh?”

“I cannot help it,” Akabane whispers, unsure if his lover will realize where he’s coming from. A common bond isn’t the same as acceptance. Until meeting the Get Backers he’d never thought he could find someone who would understand the hungering compulsion that drives him, the siren song that’s become a permanent part of his blood. He can no more deny this than Midou-kun can the snake’s charm that runs in his own veins.

Midou-kun kisses him again, a brief whisk of lips on lips. “I know.”

He leans back into the pillows, pulling Akabane along with him so he’s lying partway on his chest. A hand comes up and begins to stroke his back, along his spine. It’s an invitation to lethargy, and Akabane takes it, lowering his head onto Midou-kun’s shoulder and letting his eyelids droop half-closed as he curls up beside him. Strange, that the safest place of all would be with his most dangerous rival of all. That skittish fluttering in his chest stirs again, and this time Akabane draws strength from his lover to quell it. He is no longer alone. He doesn't have to fight this battle unnoticed. He doesn't want to, now.

He has Midou Ban-kun. And Midou-kun has him.

The thought of being each other's mutual protector pleases Akabane immensely, though he does not immediately understand why. Nevertheless, the idea fills him with a rich satisfaction and he presses himself closer, enjoying the way the other man's arm tightens around him so that their pulses can thrum together, now a murmur of whispered affections rather than the thunder of passion or battle.

“I have an idea, Jackal. I think you’ll find it...interesting.”

Akabane kneads fingers into the other's skin, a contented expression of affection in the light scratches. “Tell me.”

“Way I see it,” Midou-kun says, sounding a little sleepy himself now that their enjoyment has been spent, “we have two choices. We can try to make what we have work out somehow, maybe have a little fun that doesn’t involve a bunch of bloody Js. Or we can spend the rest of forever chasing each other around, having the same old fights we’ve been having with neither of us really getting anything out of it, till one or both of us gets killed. Even a pro can slip up when he least expects it. That doesn’t sound very fun in my book.” He yawns.

“Yes. Still, we would know our limitations,” Akabane points out, tilting his head to one side. Midou-kun’s face is a fascinating study in thoughtfulness. “We neither of us have ever seen such, no? Does that not intrigue you, even just a little?”

“Perhaps.” Midou-kun slides his free hand behind his head, rubbing the tangle of dark brown hair at his nape. “But what is the ultimate limitation except death? If you die, then there’s no more interesting fun to be had. Not in this life, anyway.”

Akabane frowns slightly. This is a possibility he had never thought of before. “Still...wouldn’t it excite you? To know how far you can press your own powers, to discover the truth of your capabilities?”

Midou-kun smiles then, a somewhat sly look. “Let me tell you a secret about limitations,” he says, crooking a finger in a come-here gesture. Akabane leans closer to hear him whisper it into his ear. As he does, a pair of lavender eyes widens in surprise, and he looks at Midou-kun in utter disbelief. Is that really all there is to it?

“It’s the truth, Jackal. Just like it was in Mugenjou. The mentality determines the outcome. What you really believe in is what you'll end up with. The choice is yours to decide. It always has been, never mind what the self-proclaimed gods say about it. Fuck what they say anyway. They wouldn't know what living was if I shoved it up their asses with your Bloody Sword in one hand and Snakebit the shit outta them with my other.”

He and Akabane share a muted laugh over that colorful image. Akabane is not a fan of profanity, but in certain cases he's willing to make an exception. And he has to agree with Midou-kun about Babylon's propensity for proper recognition. As to the truth of his lover's pure genius, however...Akabane finds this the most difficult to believe. It just sounds too...simple. It can't be the real power...can it?

Midou-kun has stunned him before with things he'd never expected...and as they say, the best is yet to come...!

“If you want to explore your limits, Jackal, I’ll work with you. I'll stick with you for as long as it takes. But there’re rules I don’t want broken. If you do, I won’t make it fun for you. Same goes for Ginji. He’ll help as long as you behave yourself.”

“Why?” _Why should I believe you? Why should I trust you?_

_Because...you trusted me, when no one else would have believed._

_We see what we want to see in each other, even as we recognize our loathing and despair for what we call each other's faults. And yet such weakness...you told me it could be our greatest strength. Is it then truly weakness? Could it be that what I desire most is found with you, instead of where I thought otherwise? Is it possible that you might find what you dream of only with me, and not with the prophecies others tried to cast into your fate?_

_For all those who would crush us...we have survived. Let us then claim our destiny only as we are free to choose...together..._

_Forever..._

Midou-kun yawns, larger this time. He sifts his fingers through Akabane’s hair. He smiles now, that devastating curl of lips that sends a now-familiar delicious shiver through his lover’s body. “It’ll be...interesting.”

In spite of his misgivings, somehow Akabane thinks he may be right. And in the days and years to come, he will learn that it is _very_ interesting indeed.

\--


	5. Serpents and Jackals and their Kids, Oh My!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Years pass and some things change, but the Serpent's and the Jackal's bond remains forever constant.

_Many years later..._

 

The dark-haired man settled back in his chair with the superior air of one who knows his storytelling skills are unparalleled. He took a long pull on his wineglass, set it down and declared with a flourish, “And that's how your father and I met.”

The girl lolling near his feet sighed. “Oh, Papa. It's so romantic!” Her lavender eyes fairly glowed with rapture.

Her brother was amused. “Listen to you. 'It's sooooo romantic!'” He mimicked her faraway gaze with exaggerated gestures, opening his eyes wide and batting his lashes. Then he ducked when she winged a blue streak of light at his head.

“Hey! What'd I say about throwing knives in the house, Matty?” Ban scowled at his teenaged daughter as he got up from his seat and started for the kitchen to replenish his drink.

“He started it,” Mathilda Midou-Akabane replied without a trace of shame. “Besides, you let Daddy throw knives around all the time!”

“That's different!”

The pout and row of shining scalpels leveled at him made clear this was an unacceptable excuse.

Ban snorted. “Mind your manners, brat, or I'll stuff you both back in your Babylonian test tubes. We...sort of brought you into this world. We can darn well take you out of it if we feel like it, too!”

“No you won't, Pop.” Yamato Junior, or sometimes shortened to Jun, as he was called by most, grinned as he looked up from his school textbooks. His cerulean blue eyes glinted with more than a hint of mischief.

Ban raised a brow at his son. “And why's that, kid?”

Jun snickered and pointed behind him. Ban suppressed a groan and turned around, pasting a smile on his face when he saw the other dark-haired wraith standing cool and calm like a cobra waiting to strike.

“Hi, honey. You're home early. Job went well, I take it?”

“Don't 'honey' me.” Sharp eyes the same shade as Mathilda's flicked over the scene as Kuroudo Akabane stepped into the room, sans hat but still clad in his long dark coat. “I know your tales, Ban-kun. You needn't be so...descriptive, when it comes to certain parts. It's not proper for the children.”

“Hey, how else are they gonna learn about the retrievers and the transporters?” Ban winked at his giggling progeny. “Better they hear it from me than from the monkey-spanker. I still say Madoka pulled off an immaculate conception!”

“Daaaaaad,” Mathilda groaned. “Wolfgang was made the old-fashioned way. Uncle Shido isn't _that_ clueless!”

“Don't worry, Dad, it's cool,” Jun assured a frowning Akabane. “Pop skipped over all the sex stuff. Even though Matty kept bugging him to tell!” His grin resembled that of a shark's in the pond.

“Did not. You were the perv asking about scar comparisons!” Mathilda huffed, looking very much like her father when Akabane was put out.

“It doesn't matter who had which scar where,” Ban interjected before the kids could continue squabbling. “Your dad's right, it's nothing you need to hear about till you're older. _Much_ older,” he added, setting down his empty glass and sidling over to sling an arm around Akabane. “Like sprouting-gray-hairs-older.” He glanced at Akabane and reached up to tug on a lock that stood out from the rest of its raven brethren. “Speaking of which - ready to paint the town with a color other than red? I hear the forecast is a bloody rain-free one.”

Akabane was as perfect in appearance as ever, his handsome visage virtually unchanged. Within the past year a singular stripe of solid white had begun to make its stealthy way out from the center of his hairline. The effect only heightened his exotic appeal and lent him a distinguished air. Ban had joked that he should start calling himself the Skunk instead of the Jackal, until a pointed response from Kuroudo quickly made clear what _his_ opinion of the proposed change of alias was.

He smiled now and lifted an ungloved hand to tease at the wisps of silver dusting Ban's temples. “You're one to talk. You know graying doesn't run on my side of the family. Ask Mama. We turn pure as the driven snow.”

“Pure evil, maybe!”

“Oh, come now. Don't tell me you're still sore over the fight she gave you last week. You know I've warned you before about messing with her cooking. She doesn't like it. Even my father won't argue with her!”

“I'm the only one she won't let sneak a bite,” Ban grumbled. “How come everybody else - “ he shot a dirty look at a snickering Jun and Mathilda - “can gobble it straight from the pot without checking to see if there's a meat cleaver with their name on it lurking around the corner? And you wonder why _I've_ got gray hairs!” Like Akabane's, Ban's silvering only made him that much more attractive, as did the slight effects of time's passage evident in his face. “Raising you heathens has probably been responsible for half of them alone.”

“Really, Ban-kun.” Akabane shook his head. “You adore them just as much as I do.” As if on cue, the kids fixed Ban with their best, most sweetest smiles.

Ban rolled his eyes. “Okay, yeah, call my bluff. Come here, you little punks.”

He hugged the kids, bopping them affectionately on the head before setting them loose. “But you're still not getting me to dish the dirty details!” 

Both teens stared at him for a moment. Then Jun spoke. “Okay. We'll just go ask Miss Hevn!”

“The hell you will,” Ban snapped. “What that greedy broad knows, you don't need to learn about till you're in prison!”

“Then we'll just ask Makubex. He has a whole Archive of knowledge at his disposal,” Mathilda muttered to her brother, who cackled agreeably.

“Now, now.” Akabane slipped free of Ban's hold and gathered the children closer to him. “Your education on prurient matters has already been attended to ages ago, so let's have no more talk of them.” He smiled at his offspring and kissed their foreheads when they happily snuggled into his embrace. “Besides, I know far more entertaining history. Someday I will tell you the story of how Aunt Himiko and I had a great battle.”

Jun gaped at him. “You and Aunt Himiko had a fight? And you walked away from it?”

Akabane chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Yes, you impudent little scamp. I'm here now, aren't I? Well, it was all a dreadful misunderstanding, at least on my part.”

“Possession by demonic entities is not a misunderstanding,” Ban muttered under his breath, annoyed by the way the kids were staring, their faces rapt, as their attention stayed riveted to the prospect of future stories. Somehow Akabane could always get them to respect his authority where he, Ban, could not.

His mate gave him a look, but continued. “Well, she was only doing her job. Your aunt was one of the bravest fighters I've ever had the good fortune to witness. She truly did her bloodline proud that day.”

Jun was amazed. “You won a fight with Aunt Himiko? But how'd you do it, Dad? Bribe her?”

“My, my, what impertinent questions.” Akabane chuckled with typical aplomb. “We both won. Dear boy, don't you know that when everyone wins, it means there's more fun to share around?”

Then again, Ban was glad there were times when Akabane's rule prevailed.

“Stalemate's not a win. Not technically,” Mathilda pointed out.

“Oh, it was no stalemate, I assure you, pumpkin,” Akabane told his daughter with a smile. “Ask your father. He was there too.”

The kids' heads swiveled instantly to Ban. His only answer was a smirk and a waggle of eyebrows. “Jagan, then,” Jun declared.

“Nope. No doom-gaze involved, kiddo.”

Perplexed, the teens looked to Akabane again. But all he would offer by way of explanation was his usual enigmatic smile and a shaded twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Ban watched his family and felt a now-familiar swell of pride and joy.

Both children had Akabane's tousled jet-dark hair, although while Mathilda had inherited her father's mercurial purple, Jun boasted a set of baby blues to rival his old man's. Mathilda was the spitting image of Akabane right down to mannerisms and clothing style, so much so that she'd been nicknamed Baby J – a moniker she wore with great glee. Her brother Jun had Ban's hawkish features. Ban actually thought he looked more like a blend of Kaiser, his own father, and his namesake, Himiko's elder brother, a notion which gave him an oddly comforting pleasure. 

Jun was nearly at Ban's height and in a few more years would probably overtake him. Mathilda, while tall for a girl her age, still couldn't rival Akabane in height, even in high heels. But both of them had plenty of power between them to spare, and if Jun joined the fray they made for a formidable and intimidating trio indeed. Ban had learned the hard way many times that he was no match for them when they were in a mood for pizza at Paul's.

Jun was studying to become a veterinarian – the penchant for medical pursuits remained firmly ingrained in their family, apparently, even if the practice switched to patients of the four-legged variety. Ban would have blamed a certain Beastmaster's influence, or perhaps that of his husband's. Except that Jun, without any prompting from either Shido or Akabane, had held a keen interest for medicine and an affinity for creatures of all kinds ever since he was a youngster. They were always playing host to various critters the boy had found and brought home for tending, and if that menagerie wasn't enough, he could usually count on a call or two once a week from Shido, asking for help with his zoo. 

Truth be told, Ban couldn't say that he was too disappointed that his son wasn't following a retriever's path in his footsteps. The war with Babylon City and a long-past encounter with a thousand-pound horned hamburger-to-be – the former responsible for a permanent souvenir, the slight limp in his leg – had gradually convinced him that retrieval was probably a game best left to the younger bloods. Besides, Ginji's spawn were well on their way to filling those shoes. And, much though he hated to admit it – Shido's boy, Wolfgang, showed distinct promise as a future recovery agent. 

Not that he had given up the business completely. Not for the great Midou Ban the placid passivity of retirement. He still did the occasional retriever's job, but he made damn sure first that it didn't have Hevn's prints anywhere near it. A guy had to look out for the future at some point in his life, especially when he added kids into the equation. Thankfully money wasn't as critical an issue now as it used to be; the gods in charge of that had evidently decided his wallet had had enough punishment and finally blessed him with the fortune of his dreams. Some careful investments here and there had paid off well. There were, he'd learned, benefits to a certain amount of stability. 

Paul would have said that Ban had gained a new maturity. Ban would have called it being fed up with a bloodthirsty cabal's bullshit. Wasn't it freaking common sense to want to avoid having whole worlds topple down on top of one's head? When it came time, the torch would be safely passed on once more. After all, despite the lack of Babylon baloney these days, somebody had to keep up the famous one-hundred-percent success rate. The Get Backers' rate was still second to none in this town, and Ban had vowed to do his part to keep it that way.

He was not the only one concerned with achievements. Mathilda, predictably, had her heart set on becoming a transporter. This goal, when first announced at the tender age of five, had delighted Akabane for weeks, and he had, along with Himiko and Maguruma No-Brakes, been teaching her all the intricate points of that career ever since. She had a natural aptitude for it – she'd even taken on some (supervised) low-risk runs, and done very well – so it was quite likely that this mantle would also be passed on. After discussing it with each other, however, her fathers had agreed that a backup plan was still important, and so to this end Mathilda chose her academics with estate planning and management in mind. In this too, she showed considerable savvy and skill: she, like her father, had a will of pure steel...and the matching hardware to back it up.

Ban hadn't yet decided to whom he would pass on the Evil Eye. He wasn't even sure if he would – if he should - pass it on at all. The Jagan was capable of doing both great damage and great good, and he trusted his kids, knew that neither of them would ever consciously invoke it for malevolent purposes, just as he and Akabane had taught Mathilda that the intentions behind her scalpels were just as important points as the blades themselves. But it was also a burden that he didn't want for either of them to have to shoulder, despite their training in magics and lore. Himiko had kept on him about revealing the entire family history and the lessons it contained; he might have bitched royally about it at first, but he was glad now that he'd listened to her for once and, with Ginji's help, laid out the whole sordid story of his grandmother's inheritance. His children understood well that power was a serious responsibility with a corresponding price. 

Unable, for the moment, to solve history's mysteries to their satisfaction, the children turned their attentions to mugging Akabane for affection. Such a problem was nonexistent. When they'd first become parents Ban had been shocked to learn that one of his mate's other pleasures was spoiling the brats rotten. Oh, Akabane remained ever the stickler for manners, all right, and he insisted on a stern but fair discipline that went above and beyond the standards of most parents, but he was far more wont to permit Jun and Mathilda leeway on incursions (knives and poison perfumes were frequently involved, often in tandem – Jun excelled in chemistry) that Ban would've blown a gasket over. Though, if pressed, he secretly admitted to letting the kids slide on a few things before during moments of weakness...

“How was your day, Daddy? Did your job go well?”

“It was lovely, darling. And yes, the job went very well. We may have a new lead on our missing group. I'm to meet with Hevn-san this Friday. She may have more details by then.”

“That's great, Daddy! Can I go too when you leave to transport them?”

It pained Akabane greatly to crush the eager gleam in his daughter's eyes. To his credit, he didn't falter in his parental duty. “Perhaps next time when it's not so, er, busy, sweetheart. This one might be a bit of a razoring, I'm afraid. And you've got school, after all.”

Mathilda pouted but didn't give in – yet. “School's boring. Missions are way more fun!”

Akabane stroked her hair and gave her a patient smile. “Be that as it may. Hevn-san does have a tendency to downplay the more difficult aspects of a job. And you know how your father feels about that. If he says no, I say no.” He and Ban had both agreed, the latter from hard experience, that it was best to present a united front on this subject. 

“Please, Daddy? I promise not to start any fights this time...”

“We talked about this, Mathilda-chan. I'm sorry, but the answer is still no.”

Mathilda wasn't happy about it, but she recognized defeat. “Bugger,” she sighed.

Jun had a way of cheering her up. “Aw, Pop's just afraid that the negotiator will hustle us, send us back with a new brother or sister so Pop or Dad has to take her job offers, 'cause she gets a bigger commission when her agents finish a job. You know she's always called Pop and Uncle Gin her favorites!”

“That's because your Uncle Ginji is the only agent sucker enough for a sob story,” Ban cut in. “I swear, we wouldn't have done half the jobs for her that we did back in the day if Hevn hadn't laid it on so thick!”

“And if she hadn't dangled a fat wad of cash in front of you too, huh, Pops?” Jun smirked.

Mathilda spoke before Ban could get in a good swat at his son. “Wouldn't do her so well with us, to try the soft touch. We are the consummate professionals,” she declared archly. “We let nothing interfere with our interests! Right, Daddy?” she said, beaming at Akabane, who nodded.

“Quite right, princess. I taught you well,” her father replied in his fey purr.

“Too well,” Ban groused. “You take after your father entirely too much, brat.”

Mathilda, far from being discouraged by the affectionately gruff rebuke, lifted her pert nose in pride. “That's because I'm the best, like Daddy and you!”

This was how they had come to be parents. In the course of the war with Babylon, the Get Backers had discovered that there were far more unaccounted-for Voodoo Children than was originally purported – and there were credible rumors that some of them still lived. Spurred by Himiko, herself one of the most prominent Last, the Honky Tonk clan had made it their lifelong mission to track down these remaining magician's children and make them aware of their true heritage, and, if necessary, help them to relocate. While the Brain Trust had been vanquished, at least to the point where they could no longer interfere with this world, there existed plenty of other similar groups and factions that would have taken a keen interest in these children's welfare – and the potential purposes to which they could be put.

It was during one such successful recovery and transport that Akabane had raised the prospect of taking on a brood of their own. Ban was surprised, mostly because he hadn't really considered it, and mostly because he hadn't expected that he'd walk this earth long enough to do so. Akabane was already a father – as Makubex's shocking revelations were to prove. He'd lost one son and missed out on raising another thanks to Babylon's deviousness, but was only too happy to accommodate that second boy when at length they were able to reconcile. Still, Makubex could easily take care of himself, and Akabane wanted to experience parenthood in its entirety. He didn't exactly get maudlin over the topic, but Ban found himself talking it through with him at the most unexpected times. 

After further thought he'd come to enjoy the idea of it as much as Akabane did, and so, when during another mission they found – in addition to the other adult escapees they'd brought back from Egypt – a pair of unclaimed, unknown infants stashed in the hotel, it was a very easy matter for Ban to persuade Akabane to 'misplace' the extras and claim instead that they had only found three Voodoo Children, as opposed to the original five that their negotiating source had speculated. 

Makubex's manipulative electronic wizardry had taken care of the paperwork. No one who looked at Jun's or Mathilda's birth certificates, for instance, would ever doubt that they were legitimate. Why the two children had grown up with their fathers' respective physical appearances was a true mystery for the ages, but both Ban and Akabane knew without being told how it had happened. Not for nothing was the Voodoo lineage reputed to possess unfathomable powers. And the power of love – the real power of the Get Backers – was well known to work miracles.

As for the rest – well, blood magic had a good aspect too, albeit borderline. And a little infusion of the Witch King's and the Jackal's finest helped give the kids an extra boost – one that Ban had oft cause to question when he was on the receiving end of their shenanigans. 

“Oh, Papa. Don't be such a stick in the blood,” Mathilda said.

“You mean mud.”

Feline eyes glinted. “No, I mean blood.” Mathilda held a hand to her lips and giggled; if one looked closely enough one could just make out the flash of a blade concealed between her fingers. “Daddy and I can take you any day!”

Akabane's quiet chuckle warmed their ears. “As entertaining as your enthusiasm is, Mathilda-chan, sometimes one must learn to fight one's battles by one's self. Besides, the conflicts your father and I have tend to include other adult activities.” Sultry eyes met Ban's as he said this, and the look was returned with one doubly so. Their passion for each other was as strong as ever, a potent meld of lust, affection, antagonism, and trust that created an unbreakable bond of body and soul.

As always, when it was kids versus parents, the siblings had each others' back. “Don't worry, 'Thilda. Even if it's just you and me, Pop and his pet snake are still no match for the both of us!” Jun waggled his eyebrows and where his hands had been empty a moment ago, a pair of tiny bottles containing a bright green substance emerged from his fingertips.

Ban pointed at him. “Don't even think about whipping out that devolution scent, buster. I don't need Aesclepius to kick some sense into your butt. Whose side are you on, anyway?”

Twin fanged smiles shone in his kids' faces. Mathilda piped up. “Why, the same side we've always been on, Papa. Our own!”

One other thing the kids had gotten from him, much to Ban's chagrin. They'd picked up attitudes to rival his own. Neither Jun nor Mathilda was any slouch in the smart-mouth department. This was useful more often than not, especially when the monkey trainer or the threadspool started bragging about all the amazing wonderful things their brats did, but it had its disadvantages. Very much the double-edged knife, as Akabane would say. While Ban would never admit it in front of them of course, he did take a perverse pride in knowing that his kids could hurl sass along with the best (or worst) of them.

Luckily Akabane was more interested in other avenues this evening to want to prolong the battle. “All right, you two. That's enough sharpening of claws on your father.” He hugged them, then gave them a gentle nudge towards the stairs. “Go and get ready so that we can all leave for dinner. Tonight's a special night, you know.”

“Are we going to Uncle Paul's?” Mathilda said as she and Jun obeyed.

“Naw, you heard Dad,” her brother said. “Anniversary means someplace a lot ritzier. Like the place Aunt Riko and Uncle Gin took us to that one time when it was Uncle Gin's birthday.”

“I hope we go to Gunkanjima someday. Daddy said that's where he and Papa dueled once. Uncle Kazuki told me it's been totally remodeled.”

Jun made a face. “Gunkanjima's just a tourist trap now. I bet it was cooler when it was still an island hideout for gangsters!”

“You have no concept of romance,” his sister sniffed.

Their parents watched the siblings, still debating the merits of various locales their parents had visited, head off to their rooms to change. “And you say I'm a bad influence,” Ban said after a moment.

Akabane was unrepentant. “Well, what do you expect if you're going to tell the children how their parents became a couple? Everyone loves a good story, Ban-kun. Especially children. It's all in good fun.”

“Until the knives start flying and somebody loses an eye.”

“Or an arm.”

“Or another arm.”

“Fudou-san never did get over that second bit, did he?”

“Died still ranting about how much he wanted to bludgeon me,” Ban confirmed as they both looked up to the wall where a specific piece of their art collection resided. “If I recall right, I think his last words had something to do with me, a pit of vipers and a few scatological references somewhere. He always did have a thing for those.”

“Well, you know what they say.” When the other man looked at him, Akabane smirked. “It takes one to know one.”

Ban let out a rich burst of laughter. “That it does!”

They grinned at each other. By mutual accord they embraced, then kissed.

“Don't worry, dearest,” Akabane said. “I've made it quite clear to Jun and Mathilda – college first. Then they can decide on a proper career path.”

“As long as that path stays far away from demigods, supercomputers and sorcery. I've had my fill of enough spooks to last me several lifetimes, let alone thirty!” Ban complained.

“Oh, Ban-kun.” Akabane patted his shoulder. “It wasn't all bad, don't you think? If it wasn't for particular entities, we might never have found what we have, hmm?”

Ban pondered this, and a wry smile relaxed his face. “I suppose you might be right. Funny how fate works, isn't it? Even I never would've guessed things would turn out the way they did.”

Akabane's eyes softened. “It truly was fate that we should meet, wasn't it, Ban-kun? I'm so glad that we both won that day in Mugenjou, when we took up the challenge granted to us. Being alive with you has been the happiest time of my life. And to think...how easily destiny could have swung in another direction, how simple a matter it would have been to chart a course elsewhere...all but for just one minute, and one first kiss.” He hugged Ban tightly, as if fearing he might suddenly vanish on the universe's fickle whim. 

When at length they let go of each other, Ban nodded. “That's why, sometimes, even fate needs a helping hand to get back on track – and get back what shouldn't be lost.” He held up his right hand and made biting motions with it. The gesture made the transporter smile, and Ban kissed him again. “Happy anniversary, my Jackal _liebe.”_

“Happy anniversary, Midou-kun, my _merer-ab,”_ Akabane echoed softly, leaning closer to nuzzle him.

Together, they had built the castle of their dreams, one forged not with concrete or steel, but an empire of life and love everlasting. Their future had never looked better.

 

–

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:
> 
> \- liebe – German for “beloved;” a term of endearment
> 
> \- merer-ab – Ancient Egyptian words combined to mean “beloved heart”
> 
> \- I'm in the process of uploading my fics, including this series, to my A03 account. In the meantime, this and others are all archived on fanfiction.net (not yet updated), and my journals on LJ and on Dreamwidth (same name). Many thanks for your kind comments. :)


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